Dance with Demons
by SLimac
Summary: Killian Jones is fighting a losing battle with his vice and hiding it behind his music persona. Emma Swan is the cop who arrests him for it. But that isn't the first time the two of them have met. After Emma impulsively offers him her apartment to recover away from the tabloids, it also won't be the last. For her it's just giving someone a chance she never had. But can it be more?
1. Fox Chase

_A/N:_ Here's my newest AU! I just couldn't resist posting it. I've got about six chapters done now which has given me a headstart and, since I'll be posting about 1 to 2 times a week, some time to write more In the Key of F which has fallen behind as this story started to catch my attention. So, just so you know, this story will be darker than you may be used to coming from me. I really want to try and capture that grittiness that was Captain Hook and play with the idea of him going down that path of self-hatred and distruction as a famous musician with constant vice available to him. Killian on the show has been shown as becoming an alcoholic at times to cope and I want to explore that. I really hope I can give this topic (a new one for me) the respect and justice it deserves. While I have had several serious alcoholics in my life and have witnessed first hand the distruction they can cause, I don't drink and do not have personal experience with addiction, nor do I drink at all. I have, however, gone through serious mental health concerns, SSRI withdrawal and SSRI overdose (inexperienced physician error, not my own) so hopefully, even though that isn't the same, it can lend some authenticity to the thought processes in the story. Please let me know if I am not respectful in anyway during this journey and I'll do my very best to fix it. Also, I know the characters come across brash and hard in this chapter but don't worry- they'll come around. If you've read any of my others stories about healing and trust you know the process takes time. So, without further ado, here we go. Please let me know what you think! I really hope you enjoy this!

Warning: This chapter mentions alcohol abuse and contains crude language.

Disclaimer: All aspects of Once Upon A Time belongs to ABC and the shows creators, Adam and Eddy.

 _Bloody buggering fuck._

Not that Killian didn't usually say that for fun but this time he really meant it. Bloody harpies following him as if he were a prized pig because he'd forgotten his big aviators at home. Maybe. For all he knew he could have left it at one of the lasses chasing him's houses. Wasn't like he actually remembered if it was his own house he stumbled out of earlier that morning. All he knew was that he wanted his sunglasses because his head was pounding with last night's vice and the sun was making it all worse.

 _Bloody buggering fuck it all._

Why was he so stupid? _You never learn, eh Jones?_

The groupies were hot on his tail so Killian swerved right, following on the heels of an older man entering a big high rise apartment building. Like some sick fox chase, a couple of hounds made it past the slamming door behind him, practically barking in their excitement. Killian made for the stairs and took them two at a time, the distinct feeling that he was being herded into a trap if he didn't get out of the stairwell soon pulling at his stomach. He needed a place to hide.

Killian decided to take his chances on the second floor and entered the hallway, going a few doors up before he started to pound on one. Metal clanging sounded as the women ran up the stairs, their heels thankfully slowing them down. Why did he have to fire his security? Why did he think he was better than them? _Not better. Just needed to hide. No one needs to see you at 2am, Jones._

"Who's there?" a feminine voice came from behind the apartment door. Soft footsteps sounded, a contrast to the harsh thumps of the groupies.

"Please, lass, let me in?" Killian pleaded quickly. If he could just get in for a few minutes and take a breath it would be okay. The women would lose interest and he could go home and figure out his mess in private and no one would be the wiser.

The door cracked open, only enough for the chain lock to go stiff. A bright green eye peered around the wood, a few tendrils of blonde hair drifting through the space. The smell of cinnamon wafted out of the apartment, a sight better than the smell of his own place.

"Who are you?" she asked, voice cold as her visible eye narrowed.

 _Who are you?_ Wait- what? Well that was a first. Killian forced his face calm and into that alluring mask he knew worked so well on the fairer species.

"Please, lass, I just need a safe refuge for a few minutes."

"Are you drunk?" Obviously his forced alure did nothing for this mystery woman.

"No, I can assure you I am very cognizant of reality." To be fair her guess wasn't far off. He'd been knee deep in rum about four hours prior but the sprint had sobered him up fairly quickly, a fact he was wishing wasn't the case.

"You stink like a bar floor," the woman bit back. Killian barely held back a snort at the bluntness. No one, except for maybe his manager, was ever that blunt with him. Not since-

 _Fuck Jones, now is not the time._

The women who'd been giving chase finally appeared in the hallway, seemingly drawn by his increasingly desperate lilt. Or maybe it was the smell seeping from his pores that Killian's nose had become immune to after spending too many nights on said stinky surface, but the blonde woman reminded him was still present. The lady behind the door's eyes flicked towards the noise.

"Who are you?" she asked, suspicion rising.

"Killian Jones. Musician. You might have heard me on the Top 100?" The one brow visible behind the door climbed a bit, clearly unimpressed.

"No. Sorry. No time for that shit."

"Please, lass. Just a few minutes." Killian didn't know why he was begging, why he didn't go down to another apartment and try his luck there. Or just face the fans like a decent human. But his manager would kill him if he had another interaction with a fan stinking of rum and sex. And there was just something about this woman that made him want to see her whole face.

"I have a gun," she informed him, startling Killian before shutting the door. Killian stood there, stunned for a moment before the door opened, revealing an absolute goddess of golden locks and firey eyes. There was no time to ogle though because the women chasing him had appeared in the hallway so Killian jumped into the apartment, slamming the door behind him and throwing the lock.

"Well aren't you pleasant," the woman drawled. When Killian turned back to the woman he noticed that, true to her word, there was a holster pinned to her belt that held a handgun.

 _Out of the frying pan and into the fire._

Killian strolled into the apartment as if it were his mansion and not some stranger who was packing in her own home's apartment. The space, a combination of living room and kitchen, was pretty bare, just tan walls with no pictures. There was an old leather sofa against one wall, a coffee table with empty takeout containers a leg's length in front of it. The only new looking item in the space was a flat screen tv, modest in size but free from the dinginess of the rest of the place. The heat was turned down low, only adding to the coldness of the room. It wasn't a home. It was just four walls. A shot of sadness and recognition went through Killian at the thought. He knew exactly where he could find a second place with the same feeling. Killian shook himself from the thoughts threatening to consume him in front of a stranger.

"Police officer or serial killer?" Killian asked, motioning to the gun with his thumb as he flopped down on the sofa. The woman rolled her eyes, irritated. Even with the attitude she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen since-

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

Killian grinned at that, something about this woman able to pull back his attention from the consuming thoughts immediately. Maybe it was the gemstone like eyes. Or the lean figure encased in tight jeans and a white tank top that kept catching his attention. Whatever it was, he would gladly drown in it. "Feisty, I like you."

"Apparently not your fans though," the woman drawled as the fans in the hallway started to yell for him. "Nice."

Killian glanced down at his knees, feeling shame at her words. Usually the comments never bothered him. As a rock sensation, Killian felt that it just added to the appeal. Wasn't being a jackass what people expected of him? It was certainly what the tabloids thought about him. Made him money and kept him in girls who he could kick out halfway through the night when the memories and guilt got too much without anyone liking him any less. But here was this beautiful stranger making an offhand comment and he felt like the shittiest person in the world.

Which he was. But the only people who knew him before were dead or long gone now so it didn't really matter how he acted. Or, at least that's what he told himself at night.

"You have a name?" Killian asked to distract himself from the rabbit hole his was treading the precipice off.

The woman considered him for a moment, flicking her blonde hair over her shoulder in a smooth, practiced movement. Her eyes darkened as she calculated the danger revealing herself to a hungover musician and stranger would pose. "Emma Swan," she replied, seemingly figuring there wasn't much danger he could pose. The conclusion seemed reasonable to Killian. She was the one with the gun after all.

"Well, hello, Emma. I'm Killian."

"I know," she replied, unimpressed with a jerk of her thumb towards the door. "I remember."

"Tough lass to crack, aren't you?"

"Don't crack," Emma answered, leaning against the kitchen counter, arms crossed and gun glinting in the artificial light.

 _Don't crack?_ That was the fucking dream wasn't it? No need to fill the void with alcohol then, like some sort of burning calking. No need to go through women like people go through clean socks to keep the loneliness at bay for a few more hours. No need to scream out all the emotion on stage instead of on a street corner because that way you're seen as a performer and not a complete wreck. Keep some dignity, you know? Don't crack- wouldn't Killian give his left hand so he could say that?

And yet, there was something about Emma that made him think don't crack didn't mean hasn't cracked. There was a hardness that reminded Killian of someone who'd broken their favourite mug and then, when they pieced it together, used too much Superglue, smearing it all across the front like a shield and letting it dry without doing anything to wash it away. Maybe they thought it would keep it protected in the future? Maybe they were right and Killian needed some Superglue of his own?

Emma was quickly becoming a puzzle he needed to solve.

Killian's head began to pound as his adrenaline wore off and the hangover symptoms creeped forward again. A woozy groan escaped his lips before he could stop it. If only he could get a hold of something to dull the pain. Something golden brown with a burn. He let his head fall into his hands, elbows balanced on his black jean clad knees.

"If you puke, I will shoot you," Emma growled.

"I won't puke," Killian answered, trying for a semblance of her American accent. The words just came out sounding crude and petulant. The women in the hallway were still screaming. "I've been in worse shape."

"What a relief," Emma answered, sarcasm dripping from her words. Despite the tone, Emma turned to her cupboard and pulled down a mug before setting it under her Keurig, slipping in a coffee package and pressing a button. Soon the smell of warm, bitter coffee filled the air as the steam rose from the red mug. If Killian was going to give his left hand to not crack, he'd give his right to get a mug of that beverage.

Before Killian could offer his appendage, Emma had poured a little cream into it and approached him slowly, holding out the coffee as if he were a scared deer. Or a very nauseous one. Killian took the warm mug when she got within reach, taking a large, scalding gulp as soon as the ceramic was against his lips. Even with just the one sip, the human feeling that often hid when he started to drink started flooding back to him. Killian sighed at the sensation.

"Thank you, lass," Killian said with a small and grateful smile. The only answer was a firm nod. Emma returned to her spot at the counter then, watching Killian with uninterested eyes as he continued to drink the coffee. Neither said anything. Killian, usually an expert with smooth one liners had nothing to say to Emma. There was no desire to be crude. Or superficial. Or cocky. Maybe that was because she'd shot him down so effectively before and it was too hard on his fragile ego? Or maybe it had nothing to do with that.

A few minutes later the noise in the hallway died down as the women recognized finding their idol was a lost cause and Killian finished his coffee, feeling decidedly better than before he'd stepped into the apartment. The only reason for that was probably the coffee. Nothing to do with the woman still watching him in distrustful silence who'd made him the drink. Right?

Killian stood and offered her the empty mug. "Thanks again," he said, moving towards the door. "I won't force your hospitality on you any more. If you ever need tickets to a rock show, call my people." As soon as the words were out of his mouth he realized how pompous they sounded. Usually, it was his parting sentence to anyone who helped him, but saying it to Emma felt like a cheap cop-out. Killian's hand went up to scratch behind his ear, a tick he'd thought he'd kicked years prior when he adopted the edgy façade. "I mean, if you want to," he added quickly before mentally slapping himself for sounding like a virginal fourteen-year-old.

"Don't hold your breath," Emma answered, pulling open the door enough to poke her head out and checking to make sure the hallway was empty. When she was satisfied it was she stepped out of the way, letting the door swing open fully.

Killian stepped across the threshold, a sinking feeling inside that he would never see the beautiful lass again. Something which usually was a good thing. No strings. Less complications. No one to see the crash and burn. Just the high as it should be. But this time- this time there was a reluctance heavy in his gut. Ten minutes with the woman and he was already feeling wrong. Like something had gotten jumbled up inside.

 _Get it together, Jones._

"Good bye," he forced out before starting up the hallway, trying his best not to think about the way leaving Emma made him feel.

"Hey, Killian?" Emma called, making him pause. With a start he realized that was the first time she'd ever used his name and that her voice was much softer now that he was out of her space. His name on her lips sounded like every song he'd ever tried, and failed, to write because they were too much. And not enough. Consuming. Isolating. Everything at once.

"Yeah, lass?" he asked, trying not to sound shaky with that thought.

"There's a back door. Ask the doorman to take you through. Tell him I told you. You'll avoid the women you were running from that way. You know, in case they're still around." With that the apartment door shut and the deadbolt slid home with a resounding crash. A final crash.

Sighing Killian walked away, every step heavier than the last. Using Emma's instructions, he got out of the apartment building without being spotted, called an Uber and then went home with lyrics spinning around his brain of a song he _couldn't_ write. Not then and not now. They teased on the edge of awareness, just enough of a sweet torture to stop him from being able to do anything else. After too long chasing them, it got to be too much. Killian needed peace again. And the only way he could stop the words and get that desired relief was to drown them in rum. So, that was exactly what he did, the cycle of self-destruction starting all over again.

 _Bloody buggering fuck._


	2. Drowning Without Water

_A/N:_ Thank you all so much for the feedback on the first chapter! It's amazing to me! I was nervous to put this story out but you've all blown me away. So here's the next chapter. This one is from Emma's perspective and what she thinks about what just happened. Don't worry that they're separate though- this is just temporary. I'm going to alternate perspectives throughout the story which so far I'm actually really loving and is proving to be a fun challenge. Let me know what you think of Emma! Lastly, please excuse my lyric writing- I'm not very musical but I'm trying. Thank you. Let me know what you think! Enjoy!

Warning: This chapter mentions alcoholism.

Disclaimer: All aspects of Once Upon A Time belong to ABC and the show's creators.

Emma flipped the deadbolt back as hard as she could. Not out of frustration but because she wanted the noise. The sound that said no coming back. The one that would keep that strange man away.

Killian Jones. Rock star. _Seriously?_ What was next? Was James Bond about to break into her apartment and sweep her off to Europe?

While Emma's lie detector didn't go off when Killian had dropped that introduction, there was still that part of her that felt like she just got punked by the neighbourhood drunk. The man had obviously been three sheets to the wind sometime in the near past despite being rather sober on her couch. Emma knew drunks. She collected a lot of them on the average Tuesday night in her line of work.

 _Policeman or serial killer?_

Police _woman_ actually _._ Emma was an officer for the NYPD. She lived and worked in Queens, driving around the streets with her partner David Nolan, breaking up bar fights and investigating thefts. It was a good job. A calmer one since she'd switched from homicide to patrol a year prior. Some days she craved the intensity of the job she'd had for five years but then she remembered why she left the unit in the first place. When she'd made the switch, patrol was about all Emma could handle and by some miracle, David, a childhood companion and adulthood partner, had switched with her to stay her partner. David had loved his old job and living with the knowledge that she was the one who he'd given up that job for weighed on her. But that was just one part of the guilt Emma lived with everyday. It was just life. The minute she thought about it in any depth was the minute she did what she'd promised never to do again. _Crack._

Emma had just gotten off a nightshift when Killian had started pounding on her door, hence the gun still attached at her hip. No part of her had expected to find that man on the other side of her door. Or for him to look like that. Whether it was true or not, Killian Jones certainly looked like a rock star. His black hair was longer than was strictly respectable, hanging over his head with the grime of the previous night matting some of the strands together. The dark circles under his eyes, too blue for Emma to even look at and keep her face blank, were exacerbated by thick strokes of kohl that had gotten smudgy from sleep, or sex sweat- maybe both. Killian had been dressed all in black, his clothes rumpled but clearly expensive. Despite the man's desperate need for a shower he was attractive. Attractive enough for Emma to feel that pull in her gut even when she planted herself across the room, creating space that was too much and not enough all at the same time.

Emma had no idea why she'd let the stranger in her apartment. It wasn't a lie that she'd never heard the name Killian Jones before. She wasn't some fan trying to play it cool to get him into the apartment. And she most definitely wasn't one of those kind hearted souls who didn't question anyone like David's wife, Mary Margaret. Emma and David had had to have multiple conversations with the real life Disney princess about picking up hitchhikers. Maybe it was Emma's position as a police officer that filled her with the desire to help a man who was obviously being chased. But if that was it she could have grabbed her badge and went out into the hallway and put the run to the women. Killian never would have had to enter her apartment. And yet she'd let him in.

Allowed him to sit on her couch.

Served him her precious coffee.

What was wrong with her?

No one entered her domain. Not the one night stands- she always went to their house so she could slip away in the middle of the night, no strings, no complications. None of her coworkers, except for David, had ever seen her place. It wasn't like she had anyone else to ever want to see her. Unless it was the landlord coming to collect his money. Kind of sad, wasn't it? But it was safe. And Emma had her space.

A space she'd just allowed Killian Jones to get into.

She couldn't get the thought out of her head. She couldn't figure it out. Maybe it was the look in Killian's eyes, how he'd lose his focus sometimes at memories. There was something under the booze stench and the eyeliner and the leather. Something that felt like a familiar acquaintance to Emma, one of those ones that kept her up at night. It felt like if she ever gave herself the chance she might have understood Killian. Usually Emma made it a point not to care about other peoples shit because no one, apart from the Nolan's, really cared about hers. But now she found herself feeling the pull of caring in her chest. And she still didn't even know if he was who he said he was.

But if he was as famous as he said he was, there was a way to find out. Emma spun on her heel, searching the apartment for her laptop. She located it on the coffee table. Emma took a few minutes to brew herself a coffee, pouring way too much sugar into it, then drop some bread into the toaster. She was stalling. She'd had a bear claw at the station before leaving that morning so it wasn't like she was starving.

But there was that chance that Killian had lied. That he was a local drunk and it was only a matter of time before Emma scooped him out of a ditch or pulled him out of a bar fight. Because, why would a rich rock star be in Queens? That was more Manhattan's speed. It wasn't that no celebrities ever graced the borough, it was New York after all, but it was rare for them to be anywhere near Emma's particular residential neighbourhood. What wasn't so rare was for her to take people to the drunk tank after driving up her street with David. There was a good chance that she'd fallen for some magical charm and been taken for a fool, letting a man in to get away from some angry girlfriend and her friends instead of a bunch of groupies.

The toast popping signalled that it was time to stop being such a wimp. Emma had gotten through a hell of a lot worse in her life, she could do a simple google. What was one more person who lied to her? One more disappointment that really, she had no right to be disappointed about? Emma slathered some peanut butter on the bread, shoved a piece into her mouth while balancing the other on top of her mug and moved to the couch, settling in the same spot Killian had recently abandoned.

There was still the smell of rum and cologne hanging around that side of the couch. A scent of danger but also one she wasn't quite ready to completely give up on. Emma sat down her food and opened the laptop, calling up the Internet with a few quick key taps.

Too soon she was staring at the blank Google search bar. Mentally berating herself for being so childish she started to type. Before she could even get Jones down, google had given her an interesting array of proof in the form of automatic suggestions.

 _Killian Jones_

 _Killian Jones music_

 _Killian Jones new album_

 _Killian Jones Neverland's Lost Pirates reunion_

 _Killian Jones Neverland's Lost Pirates tragedy_

 _Killian Jones dead_

Well, that last one was quite the entry. They all were really. Either Killian hadn't been lying or he was some kind of super-fan and had just called up the name because it was quick for him. Emma hit the enter button and brought up the google search for _Killian Jones._ The search called up millions of entries in a quicker time than Emma could blink. Along the top of the page were images of the man who'd been in her apartment just a few minutes previously. _Shit_ , he really had been telling the truth. There were a few headshots, Killian much cleaner than he'd been that morning in them but no less hot. Other ones were magazine features, him running through water in some artsy, angsty way. It made Emma want to roll her eyes and save the pictures all at the same time. She only did the first but her curiosity grew.

The first webpage entry was a Wikipedia page. Of course the guy would have a wiki page. Emma clicked on it, figuring it was a good place to start. She scanned the page, picking out bits of information. Born in England to unknown but Irish parents. Older brother who'd raised him, had been in the navy. No one seemed to know where he went after Neverland's Lost Pirates broke up. It seemed that no one really would say why Neverland's Lost Pirates had broken up either, though it had something to do with a series of person tragedies. The bassist Robin Lock's wife Marian had passed away, leaving him with a five-year-old son to raise. Robin had left the band after but there were rumours that the reason the band had completely disbanded was the result of Marian's death and something that had happened to Killian. But Killian refused to answer anything about it and left interviews the minute there was a question about it.

There was pain there. Emma knew the desire to just get up and leave when the pain was triggered. Emma never gave herself the luxury because for her it showed weakness. For Killian it was just dramatic rock star behaviour. _Lucky bastard._ She really didn't feel bad for thinking he was lucky because she understood crippling pain. She understood what it was like to wake up in the middle of the night and crawl under the bed to hide because it felt like all her demons were crushing her from the ceiling down and she needed something to protect her. She _understood_.

A part of Emma started to wonder if whatever Killian had gone through had resulted in all the alcohol he seemed to have imbibed before arriving at her apartment. Was that drinking a regular coping method? She hoped it wasn't but something told her it was. Killian seemed to carry too many secret demons and tragedies to be doing Tai Chi for a stress relief.

Emma went back to the article. Killian Jones was now a solo artist, platinum in his own right. A year long tour had finished eight months ago and no one had heard from him since. Sure, there seemed to be tabloids snapping pictures of him with women in various states of sobriety, but Killian seemed to be laying low from the music world. _Or hiding,_ Emma found herself thinking. At least the attempt at hiding explained why some fans were googling if he was dead or not.

Emma knew Killian was very much alive. Or, at least his heart was still beating. Other than that the jury was still out.

And that's when Emma realized the problem. She _wanted_ to know. She was actually curious about the life of a person so out of her social circle that she'd never see him ever again and he'd forget about her the moment he left her building. She cursed. What had she been thinking? Life was easier when she let herself believe he was just some random drunk and not someone she felt she could see herself in, understand beyond the surface if given the chance.

Emma hastily clicked out of the wiki page, hitting the mouse too many times, so her computer couldn't keep up with her. Before she realized she'd clicked the screen too many times, a YouTube video started playing. It was a cellphone video of a concert, Killian Jones standing up on stage in all black and lots of leather, crooning out words in a soft, lilting voice that didn't exactly match the personality he was projecting.

 _Scars on the hull_

 _Rocks and waves_

 _You couldn't swim_

 _But I was the one who drowned_

The real pain in his words hurt. Every word was like a knife. But it wasn't Killian driving in the blade. No. It was the man who'd made her lungs fill with water while he disappeared into the fog. But what made it worse was watching Killian, pretending that nothing was wrong on stage. As if she couldn't see his scars like they were neon signs behind a slightly opaque glass.

Emma stood, coffee table jerking forward when her knees hit the edge. She cursed and took off to into her bedroom, flopping down on the bed. The song continued to play but the pain was less when she couldn't see the musician.

 _Why am I always the one sinking?_

 _I thought I could swim._

Great question. Emma couldn't figure out the answer either. And now, they'd never get the chance to try and figure it out together.


	3. Peter Pan's Minion

_A/N:_ First of- to any of my readers in Florida or who belong to the LGTTBQQ+ community I am terribly sorry for all you have to go through this year. It isn't fair. Please show each other love. Love is stronger than hate. We need to make it so.

A bit of a short chapter today but it's a bit heavy. It's meant to set up what's to come. This is the last chapter before our lovely characters are reunited and things really get going. I've got six more chapters after this written so far and I'm really loving the story. I kind of wish I could just give it all to you at once to see what you think. But that's no fun. So the next chapter is coming on Thursday morning. Thank you so much for all the support. I've never had a story gain such support so fast and it means so very much to me. You're all awesome. Let me know what you think of this one. Enjoy!

Warning: This chapter contains mentions of alcohol abuse.

Disclaimer: All aspects of Once Upon A Time belong to ABC and the show's creators.

The Uber dropped Killian off in front of the gate to his house as the evening sun was fading. The place was big, ostentatious. Too much. A far cry from that little ratty bungalow he'd grown up in, and still missed when he allowed himself to. But the mansion wasn't meant to be a home. It was meant to be a fortress. The gate was meant to keep the reporters and paparazzi out. The heavy, solid oak front door was meant to keep him in.

Not that it worked on regular days. But it was usually a detriment when he was in such a state he shouldn't even move from the bathroom floor.

Killian paid the driver and then typed his code into the keypad of the wrought iron gate, letting it swing open enough to fit his slender frame through before shutting it again. The lock clicked in such a way that it reminded him of a certain blonde's apartment door. A shot of longing rushed through him.

It had been a week since that strange morning. Since Killian had laid his eyes on the most stunning beauty. The same lass who was tough and closed off and had saved him from the groupies. Killian didn't know why he'd been surprised she hadn't been lying about the gun. Emma Swan seemed like the kind of woman to shoot first and ask forgiveness later. He was half shocked she didn't shoot him the minute he'd started pounding on her door so early in the morning. And then he'd gone and been some pompous ass and fucked everything up with that line about concert tickets. For the last week Killian had wondered what she'd do if he showed up again after the show he put on that morning.

Killian let himself into his house with a weary sigh. He'd spent the day with his record executives. They wanted to know what he'd done for his next album and what his plans were. Too bad Killian had no plans and had done no work, unless they were referring to what he did at night when he got too lonely and there was an easy lass to convince to distract him. Regina, his manager, had been furious, both at the lack of work he'd done and the recent tabloid pictures that featured him slumped in a booth at the back of a dingy bar in Queens. Killian had gone there to try and not be recognized, find a woman, drink himself silly and then leave. Turned out the bartender called the paps and the woman he'd slept with- who supposedly wasn't really a fan but actually was- had given an interview to the reporters for probably enough money to pay a year's rent. Regina had gone on, playing dirty by asking what Liam would have thought of his life? As if that would have snapped him out of his shit?

Killian had told her to fuck off and stormed out. No one talked about Liam. _Not even Killian._

But he'd hear about it tomorrow, get an earful for embarrassing her in front of the producer August and the variety of other _people_ Killian was supposed to know but only vaguely recognized. But Killian knew Regina would never actually drop him from her label, not when he made so much money for Poison Apple Inc. All she'd do was push and hurt him.

She was good at that.

Killian kicked off his boots, bending to straighten them onto the drying mat like he had been taught as a lad, then padded through the quiet house. All the lights were off, so he flicked them on as he went. The house, with it's warm yellows and greens seemed less lonely when shadows weren't crawling up the paint and swallowing the light inside of him like some sort of evil version of Peter Pan's minion.

 _Peter Pan's Minion._ Might not be a bad song idea.

That wasn't the song Killian had been trying to write for several years. The one Emma Swan had reminded him of. The one that haunted his sleep, only fragments surfacing, each word a slice to his heart. Killian didn't know why he had such a problem with writing that particular song.

Well, he knew it had something to do with a brunette who'd disappeared from his life in the same year as his brother and Neverland's Lost Pirates. One year and he'd lost everything. Now there were only about five people in his life who'd known him well before- Regina one, the other three members of his old band he hadn't talked to in years and one woman who was long gone. Part of Killian missed his old friends, but considering Regina's reminders of what everyone would think of him now, well, they were better staying in his past.

Killian just couldn't handle the shame.

Couldn't handle a lot of things now.

Killian moved into his living room, illuminating the space that was arranged around his grand piano. He sat and grabbed the pad of paper that was left on the keys, pulling a chewed up pen from the coil. Sucking in a deep breath he allowed the puzzling song to leave his mind and called up ideas of _Peter Pan's Minion._ If he could at least get something down maybe he could use it as an olive branch for Regina. As much as part of him hated her for her inability to keep his past buried, the other part needed her.

 _Just a shell of a man_

 _Bloody demon stole my shadow_

 _Nothing following me now_

 _Lost my marker for the sun_

 _Moon's the only one who notices me_

 _Maybe it would be different if I went to Neverland_

 _Maybe you don't need a shadow there to be human_

 _To be whole_

Killian tossed down his pen. Well that was dark. But then again wasn't that the point? Wasn't song writing supposed to be some cathartic process that helped him expel all the bad and made him feel lighter? It used to. Now it just triggered memories.

Killian used to be full of light. Killian used to relish in how good he had it in the world. A series of best selling albums and more money than Liam and he could ever have dreamed off as orphans. Liam and he had wandered through this house after the first album went platinum, laughing to each other at their lives. There hadn't been laughter like that in the house in a long while. Killian had a band of his best mates that helped him bring his songs to life. Robin, bassist and friend from grade school. Will, drummer and shit disturber that Killian mostly got along with. And Eric, a man who loved the sea nearly as much as Killian and Liam had and played the electric keyboard while Killian bounced around stage. A beautiful girlfriend always standing side stage.

Until she wasn't. Until his brother no longer called him after his shows and fell asleep in the downstairs bedroom. Until he was alone on stage, occasionally backed by musicians he never bothered to learn the names of. They weren't his band. They were people August hired. And that was it. Killian was alone. Why bother pretending differently?

Killian stood abruptly, feeling as if someone had reached into his chest and was crushing it. This was why he didn't write songs anymore. This was why he tried to avoid thinking all together. Killian didn't have to think to get a woman or to call an Uber to take him to a bar. Some thought was usually required to avoid the paps the morning after but, as last week had shown him, that didn't normally work. At least the morning after he was too hungover to actually think of anything beyond avoiding having cameras flash in his face.

But that morning had led him to Emma Swan's door so it wasn't a complete loss. If only he hadn't messed everything up and given her an impression of the new him, not the him he wanted her to know, he might have been able to go see her again. But like a reverse Midas, Killian had turned her opinion of him to ash. Why would a brilliant woman like Emma ever be interested in such a broken fuck up?

On the mantel sat a half-drank bottle of rum. A shitty kind but it had been the only thing left in his liquor cabinet. And lately, Killian didn't drink for the taste.

At one point Killian hadn't drank at all. His brother didn't like it. Not after how their father had left him. But after that year Killian had turned to that burning liquid, at first just to sleep and now, now it felt like he grabbed it just to breathe.

Killian wasn't proud of how far he'd fallen. But he didn't see a way out. Not anymore. Not when he didn't know who he'd become and had forgotten to leave a bread crumb trail to get back.

Killian grabbed the rum, suddenly feeling completely overwhelmed. He needed out of the house. Out of the memories and life. Tonight a bar and a strange bed didn't seem appealing. To be honest, the second option hadn't seemed very enticing since he'd met Emma Swan, so trying for that wouldn't find him any peace of mind. There was one place he could run though.

It took Killian forty minutes to drive through the part of the city he lived in to where he kept his boat, _The Jolly Roger,_ named in the same vein as his old band's fairy-tale name and paid for with his first major advance. It was the one place where the memories of his brother didn't hurt quite so much because the water had always been a part of them. It was like saying oxygen hurt his lungs.

Though, to be fair, sometimes that was true.

It didn't matter. The Jolly was safe for him.

Killian untied the bow and stern lines, kicking the little floating dock with his foot so the boat would drift away from it. A quick turn of his key and the engine purred to life, rocking gently under his feet. With no where to go but everything to run from Killian set his course for out of the mouth of the little bay his yacht club was in.

Twenty minutes later, sea wind blowing through his hair, Killian came to an open stretch of water. Full darkness had fallen since he'd left the warf, little stars peaking out from between wispy clouds, driven across the sky by a light spring wind. Silence enveloped him when he cut the engine.

This was the peace he'd been desperately searching for. The openness. The quiet. The isolation that didn't leave him lonely like his house did. Like this, he very well could have been ten and back in England, floating off the coast and not near the city where everything had been taken from him.

Killian desperately wanted to hold onto that feeling, to keep the memories that threatened him every time he looked at the skyline of the city at bay. Regina had once told him it was healthier for him to go see someone about his emotions and not just drink them away for another night. But there was no therapist to talk to out on the water unless he wanted to shout at the void of sky. Which he'd done before and didn't feel like doing now. So Killian did the only thing he seemed to be good at lately and grabbed the bottle of rum he'd brought with him, sat down on the deck, staring at the stars, and brought the amber liquid to his lips, praying for some sort of salvation.


	4. Strange Salvation

_A/N:_ Here we go with the reunion! Enjoy! I hope you all enjoy this chapter more than the last since the response was very different for that chapter than the other two. After this chapter is where the fun really begins (in my opinion)! Thanks so much for all the support. It's blowing me away! Let me know what you think of this one! Enjoy!

Warning: This chapter mentions alcoholism.

Disclaimer: All aspects of Once Upon A Time belong to ABC and the show's creators.

The bullpen was empty save for Emma and David sitting across from each other at their giant shared desk. The rest of the officers that were working the nightshift were out on patrol since it was this time of night, the midnight to three stretch that you got the troublemakers out, just when they were starting to be annoying and not after the chaos had happened. Unfortunately for Emma and her partner, they were buried in paperwork, having lost a bet to another officer, Graham Humbert during a dart game, and were stuck doing his reports as well as her own while he drove around.

Not that her mind was on the paperwork. There was no way she was going to get through the big pile of half-done reports when her thoughts kept drifting back to that strange morning a week previously. It would be a lie to say she hadn't listened to Killian's entire new album after that day, just a few at a time so she wouldn't feel like her enjoyment of the music, and curiosity in the man, was too real. The lyrics just reminded her too much of her own life. Right from that story about the person sitting on the sidewalk, waiting for someone to come. To someone who didn't know about those feelings it would sound like someone waiting for a girlfriend. To Emma, she knew it was about waiting for parents and being abandoned. She'd googled the song afterwards to see if Killian really was the songwriter. He was. Emma wasn't sure if she felt sadder for herself or Killian after hearing that song. It sounded like he'd had a shitty childhood as well. Once again Emma felt like she could actually know Killian and on one hand that was horrifying because Emma didn't do that kind of thing, but on the other hand, it made her curious.

Footsteps sounded up the hallway, hurrying towards the bullpen for patrol officers. Emma glanced up, waiting to see who it was, part of her really hoping it wasn't some civilian with an emergency that would involve a lot of paperwork. A redhead in uniform, long curly hair tied up in a ponytail, poked her head into the room, checking to see who was still in. Her eyes lit up with recognition at the sight of Emma and David.

"Emma, David!" Ariel called, slipping into the room. Ariel was an officer in the department that worked with the port authority and often partnered with Emma and David on various policing jobs on or around the water. Ariel just gotten back from her honeymoon, three weeks in Fiji, after marrying some rich man she'd met at the pier two years prior. Emma had been invited to the wedding but she hadn't gone- no one to go with and weddings were a lot for her tight leashed emotions to process. She'd seen pictures though and boy, was it ever a wedding.

"Hey Ariel, welcome back," David called, pushing back his chair and standing. The tan colouring Ariel's skin really made Emma wish she actually took a vacation once in a while. Emma hadn't ever gone on one. At first she never had the money. And then she just didn't see a point in being alone on another continent when she was doing that just fine in Queens.

"Thanks. Look, a call just came in. You interested?"

"What is it?" Emma asked, getting up as well. She'd take pretty much anything to get away from those papers that were making her eyes go blurry.

"Suspected intoxication on a marine vessel. Boat's just out there floating. Would have called the coast guard but it's their night for practice drills so they're all busy and I'm on duty," Ariel finished with a shrug. Ariel was a registered captain and when needed captained the department's police boat, mostly in the summer when the boaters were out in full force, usually with beer.

"What do you say, Emma?" David asked with a grin. "Up for a sail?"

"Always," Emma answered, reaching over and shutting her laptop with a finality. She grabbed her gun from her desk top, slipping it onto her belt and followed David and Ariel out of the bullpen. They took David and Emma's police cruiser down to the port where their little grey police boat with the rubber bumpers sat, tied up.

The air was cool now, the spring heat having blown out sometime through the late evening. Emma found herself wishing she'd brought her jacket as goosebumps raised across her skin. She pulled on her lifejacket, pulling her arms into the main part of it against her chest as Ariel backed them up and then put into the harbour.

"So what's the story?" David asked, looking just as chilled as Emma was feeling. Emma went behind the wave shield and hunkered down, back to the side as they cut through the smooth water. David leaned against the shield, arms crossed over his chest. Ariel didn't seem bothered by the sea wind in the slightest as she turned to the two other officers.

"A commercial vessel called it in. Apparently, there's a pleasure boat, _The Jolly Roger_ , floating two miles from shore. No one can be seen but they could hear someone singing. Sounded like they were drunk."

"So we'll tow them in?" Emma asked.

"Or they'll tow us, if the boat's big enough."

"Better than paperwork," David put in. Emma had to agree. It was a beautiful night, much more enjoyable now that she was out of the wind. The stars winked at them and the moon illuminated the open water. Despite being still on duty, there was a peacefulness to being out on the water. Emma needed to make a point of finding a way out onto the water more often through the summer. Maybe she could get to know Ariel a little better and spend some time on the boat Ariel shared with her husband.

"There she is," Ariel said solemnly about twenty minutes later, slowing the engine to a quiet growl. Emma stood with a yawn, stretching, back cracking and shoulders popping. She'd actually started to drift off, cuddled there against the side. She followed Ariel's outstretched arm.

Floating about twenty feet away was a large white pleasure yacht, _The Jolly Roger_ painted in scrolling black font across the side of the hull. It was the boat of someone rich, probably some Manhattan stock broker whose teenager had stolen the keys to go drink. Like the report had said, there didn't appear to be anyone on board. But, unlike what they'd been told, everything was silent.

Emma shot a worried look at David.

Ariel grabbed the loudspeaker, holding it up to her mouth. "Captain of _The Jolly Roger,_ please prepare to be boarded by NYPD." They all stayed quiet, waiting to see whoever was on board come out. No one did. "Captain of _The Jolly Roger,_ this is your last warning." Again, no response. Ariel sighed and got the boat going again. In a few moments they had sidled up to the side of the yacht and Ariel gave them the nod to board as she looped the bow line around the whole in the yacht's washboard.

Emma was able to easily step up onto the side of yacht and jump down onto the Jolly Roger, David following. As soon as she did and looked around she realized why no one had responded. And nearly swallowed her tongue. Laying on the deck of the boat, passed out, an empty rum bottle beside him, was Killian Jones.

 _Killian Jones. Rock star._

So much for never seeing him again.

Before Emma could say or do anything, Ariel had boarded and exploded.

"Killian Brennan Jones," she hollered. Emma shot the usually demure redhead a surprised glance. It didn't sound like Ariel was a fan. It sounded like Ariel had a personal beef with the musician. "Get up now," Ariel yelled, grabbing Killian's shoulder and shaking.

Killian's eyes opened slowly, as if that movement alone caused him pain. The alcohol clouded his vision, making him look around as if he didn't actually see anyone in front of him or notice Ariel's fist in his shirt. However much rum had been left in the bottle before Killian had started that night, seemed to be enough to put him down for the count.

A slap sounded, the noise radiating over the silent water like ripples. "Do you know what you did to Eric?" Ariel asked, hand poised for another crack. David, registering that Ariel had actually hit Killian, whose cheek was quickly reddening, leaped forward and grabbed the woman, bodily pulling her back. Killian hadn't reacted at all, despite the obvious force behind Ariel's hand.

"What are you doing?" David asked, voice erring between shock and anger. This wasn't Ariel. Especially not Ariel when she was on duty. Emma hadn't once seen Ariel act unprofessional, even when she'd first met her husband Eric, while she was working. Ariel had stayed completely quiet around Eric, as if she'd lost her voice, and then, once the case was closed, went straight back to the pier and introduced herself. But this-

"Do you know who that is?" Ariel's chest heaved in David's grasp as she waited for an answer. David shook his head but Emma said nothing. She didn't really think this was the place to reveal that she and Killian had had a very strange meeting the week before. "That's Killian fucking Jones," she spat, turning her nose up at the drunk musician. "He was the lead singer in a band with my husband Eric." Eric, the piano player. After Neverland's Lost Pirates had disbanded, Eric must have taken a job at the port. It clicked then how Ariel had had enough money to go on such a long honeymoon and have such a lovely beach wedding. "The band broke up after some serious shit, and this loser cuts himself off. From everyone who ever loved him. Do you know how much Robin needed you?" Ariel asked, now shouting at Killian again. "How much Eric worries about you? How he buys every shit tabloid so he can keep track of you and make sure you're not dead in a ditch somewhere?"

"If you'd like me to jump overboard now lass, I'll gladly do it," Killian responded quietly, shocking everyone with his voice. Emma spun to look at him but Killian was pointedly looking at his lap. She saw his expression for what it was- shame. Now whether it was shame at getting drunk and caught by the cops, or shame at what Ariel had said, Emma didn't know.

"Ariel," Emma said quickly, cutting off the redhead's retort which could probably be paraphrased into "take a long walk off a short pier". She needed to smooth things over before something worse than a slap happened. "Go tie on the police boat so we can get ready to go. David, go get the first aid kit from the boat. I want the emergency blanket." Emma leveled both of them stern glares. Ariel seemed to be coming back to herself, sending Emma a chagrined look but not apologizing. David just seemed confused at the whole thing.

When the two other officers had gone about their business, Emma bent back to Killian, squatting in front of him. Killian was still looking at his lap. Emma had no idea if Killian even remembered her or if she was about to make a fool out of herself but she spoke anyway.

"Killian? Do you remember me?" she asked softly.

Now Killian looked up, his blue eyes meeting her own for a short moment of recognition. "Emma Swan," he answered, voice slurring. Emma tried not to let on her surprise. She hadn't really expected him to remember her first name, let alone her full one. After what she'd read about Killian through the week, Emma had just expected Killian to move on and never think of her again.

Emma sighed. "What have you done?" she whispered, balanced on her heels. Killian was a mess. His eyes were bloodshot and unfocused. The black hair that, according to the pictures Emma had seen, was usually messy in a purposeful way, was now matted with salt spray and sweat. Shivers wracked Killian's body, the short sleeved black t-shirt not enough to protect him from the night breeze.

"Was looking for peace." The alcohol seemed to loosen his tongue. The answer felt real, like she wasn't really supposed to have heard. "I really fucked up this time, didn't I?" Killian asked, focused a bit more on her now.

"We're going to have to charge you operation of a marine vessel while under the influence," David supplied, coming up behind Emma. He dropped the first aid kit in her lap and Emma undid the zipper, quickly finding the reflective silver emergency blanket.

Emma held the blanket out to Killian but he shook his head. A punishment, Emma could easily tell. It was obvious Killian was freezing but staying that way was penance for getting in such a situation. Emma sighed. This man had a lot more going on than she'd initially thought.

"Killian- if you get hypothermia on the sail back I'm going to have to do a shit ton of paperwork so just put on the blanket, okay?" Emma asked, allowing her voice to have just a hint of exasperation to it. Killian shot her a glance that told her he knew what she was doing.

"Ariel would love it if I froze to death."

"Killian," Ariel said sharply, coming on board now that the police boat had been secured to the stern of _The Jolly Roger_. "I don't want you to die."

"You sound so convincing, lass," Killian drawled, sounding more lucid now. While he was distracted by the other officer Emma draped the blanket over his shoulders, tightening it around him and trying her best not to think about how close she was to Killian. She was _on duty,_ damn it. And she was arresting him.

"If you died Eric would do something stupid like blame himself for not stepping in."

"I think after three years he can drop that hero streak."

Ariel glared at him and turned with a huff, finally recognizing that she was veering too far from professional territory to retort again. With another angry huff Ariel marched into the cabin of the yacht and fired up the engine. Killian looked down, pulling that supposedly unwanted blanket tighter around him. As the boat started up David moved into the cabin with Ariel, most likely to talk her down, and Emma stayed next to Killian, settling on the deck.

Emma wasn't sure why she decided to stay there. There really wasn't a need since Killian wasn't about to fall overboard while he was sitting down and she could easily slip away to stand with her colleagues but there was something in the way Killian was looking down that made Emma want to stay. Killian seemed ashamed of his actions but there was also an air of helplessness to him. Maybe he hadn't wanted to drink. Maybe he'd felt like he needed to.

A word bristled at the back of Emma's mind. _Addict._ Yes, Emma was pretty sure there was a level of alcoholism to Killian- perhaps a side of him he kept secret if the shame colouring his expression was any indication. Maybe he hid behind his celebrity persona- that one that made no one second guess the rum soaked aura that was swallowing him whole?

"So I guess you are a policeman," Killian said, breaking the silence between them. It took Emma a few moments to remember what he was talking about.

"Police _woman_ ," she replied, going for some levity. It felt out of character for Emma to try and be the light one. That was Mary Margaret's job. Emma had seen too much to be anything other that pessimistic. Or at least she told herself that as a scapegoat for the guilt of being doom and gloom.

"So what does this charge mean for me?" Killian asked, trying to sound nonchalant despite the slurred words and serious topic. It was a strange combination.

"You'll have a DUI on your record, a fine and lose your boating license for a while. Could have been worse. At least you didn't hurt anyone," Emma finished with a light shrug, keeping her voice that even one she used with the people she took into the station.

Killian heaved a resigned sigh. "Regina's actually going to kill me."

"Regina's your manager?" Emma asked, trying to ignore the looks David was shooting at her from the cabin. The name vaguely reminded her of something she'd read on Killian's Wiki page.

"Yeah. She was already pissed. Haven't written anything in months and now I do this. She'll probably actually drop me now." Killian shook his head sadly. Again, there was that strange combination of drunken lilt and sober topics. Maybe it was easier for Killian that way? To just let the booze keep hold while he discussed the potential end of his career because of his own actions.

Emma furrowed her brows. "Why did you do this then?" When Killian stiffened at her words Emma realized that she'd probably stepped over the line. After a few long heartbeats Killian just shook his head. There would be no verbalizing of his answer now. Emma wasn't sure if there ever had been.

The boat engine slowed as they pulled into the pier. David came out of the cabin, closing the space to where Emma and Killian sat. The blonde officer put his hand out to help Emma up so they could get the boat tied up.

"You okay?" Emma asked Killian as she stood, leaving him there on the deck. Killian nodded, back to looking at the deck, using his nail to scrape a chunk of dirt off the grey paint. With a firm nod back, Emma followed David to the washboard, grabbing the rope coiled there. Ariel cut the engine, the boat falling into silence, save for the lap of waves against the hull.

"That's quite the interaction Ariel and Killian had," David mused quietly as he reached over the side and grasped the floating dock so Emma could tie the bow line to the metal grommet. Emma didn't answer aside from a shrug. She didn't want to gossip. Killian had gone through too much and while Ariel may not have been off base reacting as such, it really wasn't something that had been helpful. Killian was barely holding on as it was.

Ariel strolled over to David and Emma, still looking irritated. She jerked her thumb towards Killian. "Killian can't be alone after all the alcohol he ingested. You taking him to the drunk tank or can I take his sorry ass home to Eric?"

Bring Killian home to Eric? The one who apparently worried himself sick over Killian, a man who was currently battling more demons than the fifth circle of hell had on it's census? That seemed like the worst idea Emma had ever heard and she'd made some seriously terrible decisions in her own past. She was like captain of the bad decision team. There was no way Killian would find any sort of peace at Eric and Ariel's house.

But Ariel was right- Killian couldn't stay alone. What if the alcohol poisoning set in? What if he just went home and drank more? That thought shot worry through Emma. She'd only known Killian for a grand total of forty-five minutes and yet the idea of something happening to him was something she couldn't even think about. If she did she'd scare herself thinking about the level of kinship she already felt for Killian. But Killian couldn't go to the drunk tank either and risk being seen. Or call his manager. Not if he wanted his career salvaged and in Emma's opinion, that seemed like the only thing he had anymore.

Emma didn't know why but she just knew she couldn't let him lose that. Maybe it was because people had let her lose everything before and she'd always wanted someone to step in.

Emma spoke before she could stop herself. Or consider how much she was going to regret this. "His manager is coming to get him," she lied easily. Emma could feel Killian's panicked glance against her back.

Ariel shrugged. "Good luck to her."

Emma didn't say anything else or think about how unknowingly, Ariel was talking to Emma. She turned away to Killian. "Come on, we're going to the station. Ariel will keep your keys and arrange for your boat to return to it's berth."

Killian said nothing, a frantic look to his eye, but he pushed himself up obediently anyways. As soon as he was standing he took a stagger, falling towards the washboard as the alcohol went to his head. David caught him easily, pulling him upright then out of the lightly bobbing boat. Once on solid ground Killian seemed more stable and was able to walk slowly towards the cruiser under his own power.

Ariel stayed at the pier to make arrangements for Killian's boat, shooting him a glance that may have been apologetic but was also very annoyed before hurrying into the port authority office. The absence of Ariel seemed to make the atmosphere between them all much lighter and Emma knew she'd made the right decision about not allowing Killian to go with her. Killian himself was completely silent the whole ride back to the station.

"Why don't you go home to Mary Margaret?" Emma suggested to David when they got out of the cruiser. She needed David to leave if she was going to pull off this outrageous plan without him making her change her mind. "Shift's over anyways. I'll wait with Killian until his manager comes."

"You sure?" David asked.

Emma nodded. "Yeah, no problem. Give Leo a kiss for me." Leo was David's two-year-old son. Reminding her partner of the child was pretty much a guarantee for him to want to rush home.

"Thanks. And you better come over this weekend," David replied good naturedly, heading for where his very-practical-new-father SUV was parked. "Leo misses his Auntie Emma." Emma nodded, trying not to feel guilty at not seeing the blonde little prince for a while. In her defense she'd been busy. And sometimes being around a family hurt.

When David had climbed into his SUV and started it up Emma moved to the backdoor of the cruiser, opening it to reveal a reserved and slightly sick looking Killian. Killian had drunk so much that he wasn't even a fun drunk. It was straight to near comatose and hungover. She couldn't believe she was about to bundle this man into her beloved Bug.

"Come on," Emma instructed, a bit sharper than what she'd intended. But here, with the two of them alone in the parking lot, it all seemed too real. But there was still that spark of courage inside. Emma held onto that. She wasn't going to back down. Not when she could actually help.

Killian pulled himself out of the car, swaying slightly. Emma waited until he'd steadied himself with a hand on the roof of the car before starting towards her own vehicle.

"Do you want me to wait for Regina inside then?" Killian asked, looking very confused and upset.

Emma turned, realizing she'd never actually told him what was going on. "You want to keep your career right?" Killian nodded, not really following. "Good. Because Regina was a lie. You're coming with me to sober up and _dry out,"_ she added at the end with a spur of the moment decision. She'd only intended on keeping him at her place for the night but watching him there, alone in the parking lot, she knew the cycle would only start up again the minute she left him at whatever mansion he lived at the next day. Killian needed a rehab of sort whether he wanted it or not. Emma could- probably- do that.

Killian gave her a strange look, measuring her genuineness, deciding if it was worth fighting her on the plan. Emma kept her face steady, waiting. After a long moment he seemed to accept whatever he saw because he sighed and started to follow her. "As you wish, lass."

Emma felt her lips prick up in a smile. "Good," she answered, unlocking her car. "Don't throw up in my car and if you try any funny business remember, I've-"

"Got a gun," Killian answered for her as if they'd done this routine a million times before. It was starting to feel like they had. Maybe in some other life that was true.


	5. A Chance

_A/N:_ Here's the chapter where you see more of Killian's thought processes surrounding Emma's offer. It's a bit of a short one and I'm not sure how I feel about it but I think it is also important because like Emma's last chapter, this one is setting Killian up for the detox process to follow. I hope you enjoy this. This whole story is more about the characters than the plot persay (though that's going to pick up with the detox process next chapter) so it's a bit more of a challenge. Hopefully it's working out though- my confidence is wavering a bit on this. But thank you all for so much support. It's really pushing me forward and inspiring me! The support on this story is so far blowing all my other stories out of the water based on how much I've actually got posted. So I love you all for that! You're amazing! Let me know what you think of this one! Enjoy!

Warning: This chapter contains mentions of alcohol abuse.

Disclaimer: All aspects of Once Upon A Time belong to ABC and the show's creators.

Killian had thought that the only thing that could have surprised him that night, in that state, was Ariel- who he'd never _actually_ met before- showing up and cracking him across the face to avenge her husband Eric. That was until Emma Swan, that blonde angel who had been haunting his every waking moment and whispering un-writeable lyrics into his ear had squatted down in front of him and asked if he remembered her. The starlight glinting off her blonde hair seemed to cut through his fog like a lighthouse. Of _course_ Killian remembered her. How could he ever forget someone like Emma Swan and her hard eyes and intriguing life and hair as golden as the rings he wore on his fingers? And then, when Killian had thought that was the end of the surprises, that he could wait for his irate manager in the police station lobby, she informed him that he was to come to her house to sober up and dry out.

 _Dry out._

As in alcohol detox. Rehab. For alcoholics. People who abuse alcohol.

People like him.

 _Shit._

Alcoholic. The word bounced around Killian's mind. It wasn't the one he used. _Rock star_ was preferred. A veil over a foggier truth. The title hid the desperation with which Killian reached for a bottle every time the memories got too much. It masked how he couldn't even really remember when he'd lost a taste for the liquid, only craving the result. It had just seemed like life after a while. Killian had never actually stopped to consider the semantics of it all.

Alcoholic. _Rock star._

But lipstick on a pig is still a pig, wasn't it?

Emma Swan had seen Killian's most secret vice and hadn't run or berated him for it. Well, to be fair she had charged him with impaired driving but she hadn't made a big deal out of it on a moral level. She seemed to recognize that Killian had been hiding from the truth because that way he didn't have to do anything about it.

It wasn't that he wasn't aware of the problem somewhere deep down. Killian felt the shame of having to pull himself out of some strange woman's sheets in the morning with a pounding headache and no idea where he was or how to get to his house. The shame of opening the fridge and finding nothing but liquid courage and taking that out because it helped lessen the imminent realization of how far away the times where it was stocked with vegetables and Powerade seemed. The shame of being arrested on your own boat. The shame of being yelled at about how you left your best friend days after he was widowed because the supposed love of your life decided she'd have a better life with someone else who made more money and took the fucking bed with her and then your older brother, your hero died. The shame at letting everything win and drowning every thought like the work at the bottom of Jose Cuervo.

Killian waited for the shame to come at being taken back to a practical stranger's house for some sort of makeshift rehab after being arrested by said stranger. But as the two of them drove in silence, headlights cutting identical paths through the dark that, since this was New York was never really dark, there wasn't that heavy feeling in Killian's gut. Embarrassment? Sure, that was starting to creep up his neck like a rash. But nothing more insidious. That would probably come with the hangover. With the truth of morning light. When thoughts couldn't be outrun under his own power.

But for now there was a quietness and Killian just let the rocking car and the still thick warmth in his veins lull him to sleep once again.

Too soon later there was a small hand shaking his shoulder. But that was the only thing moving. They must have arrived. "Killian," Emma's voice hissed through the dark. "I'm not carrying you up to my place so you can either get up or stay here." Killian cracked open an eye with a groan, a small thudding starting up at the base of his skull. "You coming?" Emma asked when she noticed Killian's blue eye staring at her. Without waiting she got out of the car, coming around to wait at his side.

"I suppose I shall. It will be warmer after all," Killian drawled after her, pushing the door open and lugging himself out of the car. The ground rocked under his feet and he was forced to reach for Emma, latching on like some sort of toddler to her forearm. _Damnit,_ this was why he preferred to be flat on his back in a bed at this point in his night. Way less chance for cracking open his skull when there was a beautiful lass anchoring him to the bed. Again that familiar embarrassment clawed at him.

For a moment Killian considered why he was feeling embarrassment but not really the shame around Emma. The shame had certainly been there with Ariel- but directed at her husband, the quiet and kind Eric. Around Emma he felt like there wasn't a need to be ashamed of his behaviour because it felt like she understood, on some level. Maybe not the alcohol, but there were mistakes in her past that turned her bright green eyes to stone. Killian had seen it. Both in her gaze that first morning and looking back at himself in a mirror. Around Emma Killian felt an embarrassment, a drive to be better, to not make such mistakes and follies. Again, just like that first morning when he'd made that crack about tickets. There was some desire burning in him to not act in such a way around Emma Swan. To just act like _himself._ Just like with-

Killian pushed the thought away to concentrate on climbing the apartment stairs, the same ones he'd run up just over a week prior. That would be a thought for later. Much later. Bordering on never.

Emma led them up the quiet staircase at a much slower pace than Killian had climbed them before. Which was actually a really nice change since Killian was pretty sure running up them then would kill him. A short while later the apartment door swung open, revealing that vaguely familiar dark space.

"You can, ah, have a seat. I'll get the spare sheets for the sofa. Sorry I don't have a guest bed," Emma rambled, sounding slightly embarrassed. When Killian turned to her there was a light flush high on her cheeks, visible in the streetlight filtering in through the window. The blush darkened as she waved towards the sofa. The rum slowed Killian's realization down but he understood all the same.

"Lass, I've slept on far worse," he said gently, swaying his way to the sofa which was looking quite inviting at the moment. "Don't worry at all."

"But, you're-"

"Human," Killian finished firmly. "I didn't always have money," he continued on, volume being stolen by the inklings of memories of his childhood with Liam after they'd been orphaned. Yes, he'd slept on far worse than an overstuffed sofa then. Hell, he'd slept on worse just a few years ago when everything went to hell.

Emma didn't seem to know what to say to that so she just nodded and turned, disappearing into what seemed like the bathroom. While she was doing that Killian flopped down on the sofa, a grateful groan slipping through his lips at finally sitting down on something comfortable. A cupboard door opened and shut and then Emma appeared again carrying a set of blue cotton sheets and a knit blanket, a pair of sweatpants and an old shirt piled on top. She dropped them on to the end of the sofa near Killian's feet without a word then moved into the kitchen.

Killian watched her go from his position. She moved stiffly, like she had when he'd appeared at her door that first morning, but not like she had on the boat. Emma in the policewoman roll was confident and practiced. It seemed like she wasn't at all practiced at having people in her space. Guilt then thankfulness rushed through Killian when he considered just how much it was costing Emma to have a stranger in her personal space that really, wasn't all that personal at all. How high would he have to climb before he could peer over those walls and see her, the real her, in a candid space?

Killian hadn't thought about climbing in such a way in years. Damnit, he really shouldn't drink the cheap stuff anymore.

Though, if Emma Swan had anything to say about it, he wasn't going to drink at all anymore. Killian really hoped that she was stronger than him. And that maybe he could lean on that to grant her that wish.

Laying on that couch Killian started to wonder just how much he would do for her if she asked. The answer to that was another one of those things he wasn't going to consider right then.

Emma returned with a tall glass of water in each hand. She gave the first to Killian, setting the other on the coffee table before scrambling to gather up the empty takeout containers she'd just noticed covering the beaten wooden surface.

"Drink that one now," Emma instructed, hurrying to the hidden away kitchen garbage to dispose of her mess. "The more water you drink tonight the better you'll feel tomorrow."

"I'm not sure water's going to make me feel better with the endeavour we're about to embark on," Killian answered, the first hints of apprehension worming into his gut. Despite his words he chugged the glass in an attempt to drown the feeling. It had been at least a solid year since Killian had gone an entire twenty-four hours sober, even on tour, and twice that at least since he'd started down the path he was now paving.

Emma turned back to Killian, shutting the cupboard door with her foot. "If you don't want to do this, I can't make you. You need to do this for you." She didn't sound judgemental, merely like she was laying out the facts. Maybe it was her police training that allowed her to state things objectively. Or maybe she just didn't care. Killian needed to find out.

"Then why did you bring me here?"

Emma considered him for a long moment before opening her mouth. "To give you a chance," Emma replied honestly. "It's your call if you take me up on it."

A chance. A chance to pull his life together without the paparazzi that circled the high profile rehabs. A chance without his manager having to write a statement to the tabloids. Without seeing his picture on all the gossip sites and hearing all the rumours on what his vice actually was and the theoretical reasons behind it. A chance to keep his career intact while recovering and resting at a place no one could find him with a beautiful stranger watching over him like a guardian angel.

Maybe being sober would change things. Maybe the songs would come easier. Maybe the nights would become less frantic. Maybe there was a way to rebuild bridges out of the ash that so regularly fell at his feet. Maybe it would show him a way to return to that man who once smiled and laughed, not for the image, but for the sheer enjoyment of it. The one who ran five miles a day but always had fried fish and chips on Fridays. The one people had been proud of. Maybe it was the lingering vestiges of the rum making him overly optimistic but hell, Killian wanted that. _All of that._

Emma Swan was giving him as much as she could. She was right- he had to be the one to take it. Not as a Band-Aid solution to please someone else. Something permanent and good. Something that, when he pulled his shit together, might even involve Emma Swan in a more permanent manner.

Killian reached over and grabbed the second glass.


	6. The Detox Plan

_A/N:_ The first day of detox is here. A note on this- this chapter is full of information because as this story follows their thought processes much of the time, it means we're seeing Emma preparing herself. I've done a lot of research on this process so it is realistic in the next six or so chapters. Please don't do this at home though. Alcohol detox is dangerous and Emma recognizes that. It's best with the help of a health practitioner. As the detox process can change within hours, the chapters will all be short spans of time right next to each other. It will spread more after this process ends. I hope you enjoy this chapter. Your support has blown me away. Over 100 followers on five chapters? That usually takes me at least 20 chapters to reach. I'm overwhelmed and overjoyed. Thank you so much! Please let me know what you think of this one. Enjoy!

Warning: This chapter mentions alcoholism.

Disclaimer: All aspects of Once Upon A Time belong to ABC and the show's creators.

Emma tried to hide her surprise as Killian lifted the second glass to his lips. She hadn't really thought he'd take her up on her offer and actually want to sober up. But as she watched him guzzle down the water it started to hit Emma what this would mean.

Emma had seen people going through withdrawal before. She'd had several foster parents do it after the money ran out towards the end of the month. She'd seen the results before- and been pulled out of the home after she panicked and called 911. And then there was all the people she picked up, shaking and distraught, on a street corner, practically begging for another hit. The process was messy. It wasn't safe. Things could go really wrong. There was a chance the DTs could set in, tremors and hallucinations, seizures and mood swings as the body was thrown into chaos.

Emma wasn't a doctor. She wasn't trained to handle such a situation.

But she was about to be Killian's lifeline anyways.

Emma tried to keep her face blank as she watched Killian finish his drink, hold the fear down deep in her stomach like she did when she was entering a hostile situation. She could panic in the privacy of her own bedroom. Not now. Not in front of Killian. For some strange reason Killian seemed to think she was capable of watching over him. She couldn't give him reason to doubt her, or what he was about to do.

When Killian had set the second glass back on the table Emma hurried over, grabbing the two empty cups before returning to the kitchen. A semi uncomfortable silence fell over them, Killian watching her every move. Emma could feel his too blue eyes on her back as she filled the glasses again and grabbed a bottle of Tylenol from the cupboard.

It felt like they were standing on the precipice. Either this plan worked or they both went down in flames. Emma wasn't really ready to consider why she felt she was going to burn up too if something happened to Killian. But she was pretty sure that if Killian went out in a grand arching fire like the meteorites that killed the dinosaurs, Emma was going to be one of those raptors that got nailed.

Emma walked back over to Killian, handing him a glass, which he took obediently, before once again setting the second down on the coffee table, followed by the Tylenol bottle. Emma stood, arms crossed over her chest, feeling restless. Feeling that hidden panic ordering her to protect herself.

"You do know what a detox means right?" Emma blurted, a last ditch effort to make sure Killian understood. To protect herself from Killian giving up on the detox. On her. Killian watched her carefully, eyes narrowed and head tilted. "Because it's not going to be pretty," she continued.

"I know, lass," Killian replied, holding up a hand to stop her with a weary sigh. "Are you second guessing your offer?"

Emma shook her head, maybe a bit too fast because Killian's face creased with emotion. Fear? Disappointment? Guilt coursed through Emma. She didn't meant to be so jumpy and distant, so driven to push everyone away. She just assumed people didn't want to be around her so tried to cut out the middleman. Emma took a moment to draw in a deep breath before carefully wording her answer. "I'm a shit nurse. I don't take care of people. I arrest them. And you're trusting me to look after you during withdrawal?"

The harsh emotion that had been on Killian's face softened into a gentle understanding. Even with such a kind look, a sad understanding, Emma felt like all her skin had been pulled back and Killian was examining her with a magnifying glass. Seeing everything she didn't want him to see and not running. Maybe he actually did want to do this with her? Wanted to be around her. _Huh._ "Emma, lass, I don't expect you to be Florence Nightingale. You're already doing more than I could ever have hoped and I don't even know why. You don't owe me anything. It's me who keeps showing up in your life."

Emma shrugged, going for nonchalance but she was pretty sure she just looked like she was having spasms. How did she give him a satisfactory answer without revealing too much of herself? Without revealing her past? That weird kinship she felt with him despite knowing little more than his Wiki page had revealed? How she never let people into her space, into _her,_ like this? Killian might want to use her apartment as rehab but there was no way he could want anything more and telling him anything about herself would just complicate things and put too much on the line when he left. Killian already knew too much. "You just, I don't know, don't deserve to be thrown to the wolves."

"I think I do," Killian replied, voice dark and quiet. Again Emma was reminded just how out of her depth she was. But she didn't feel like running back to shore. She was too stubborn to do that. And maybe by continuing to tread water in the oncoming tempest, she would give a younger version of herself some vindication as well. Prove to herself that she was no longer that person.

"Well," Emma replied briskly, the emotion making her nervous, "this is a wolf-free zone." Without waiting for Killian to respond she gave a nod and turned and started from her room. She needed space to breathe. "I'm going to bed. Let me know if you need anything."

"Thanks, Emma. Sleep tight."

Emma turned back from her bedroom door, giving Killian a tentative smile. Killian had already started on his third glass of water. "You too. You're going to need it." With that Emma slipped into her room, shutting the door behind her.

The minute she was behind the safety of the door she let out a sigh. Her body was exhausted but her mind was on fire. She felt unprepared, out of her depth for what the morning would bring. The worst feeling. But Emma was independent and capable. She'd had to be. Knowing she wouldn't sleep until she figured some shit out, Emma changed quickly into flannel pyjamas then flopped on her bed, pulling up the internet on her phone. She really didn't want to have to face Killian again with her mind spinning as it was which meant she couldn't run out into the living room to grab her computer.

For the next two hours she researched and read, cataloguing all the information in that clinical way she'd been trained to do. It was easier that way- to separate the facts from Killian's own experiences. Symptoms: five to ten hours later- shakiness, typical hangover feelings, anxiety. Twelve to two days later there was a chance for hallucinations that weren't the dangerous kind. After that came the DTs. Where things got dangerous. Emma really hoped Killian wasn't going to have to go through those too badly. Maybe they'd catch a break since he'd only been doing this for a few years. But Emma didn't catch breaks. If the DTs happened she was going to have to reveal what she was doing and call Victor. _Crap._

Killian's body would probably be in bad shape so after scaring herself silly, Emma had googled tips to get through the process. Lots of water. Well, she'd already started that, so that was a relief. Fresh fruits and juices to help detox the body. Tylenol for the pain. Anti-nausea medicine to help facilitate eating and drinking and help keep the person comfortable. Distract to keep the mind off alcohol. It was going to be a full time job for Emma to make sure Killian didn't get sick or leave to go drink again. She was thankful she had a few days off after all her nightshifts to look after Killian, especially since she was going to have to go get a bunch of supplies the next morning since Emma herself lived on Ramen and grilled cheese.

If anything, at least this process would probably improve her own diet.

Eventually, Emma fell asleep with her phone on her chest, a webpage for the different benefits of cold pressed juices open on the screen.

Retching. That was the sound Emma woke up to. She was out of bed in a moment, stumbling to the door, body moving faster than her mind. Her brain ambled along, trying to remember what had happened the night before. Had David had bad takeout again while they camped out after the late shift? But she felt fine. Then again the man didn't have the iron stomach Emma had after years of eating like shit. Mary Margaret was going to kill her for allowing David to eat cheap noodles again. It wasn't until she reached the closed bedroom door, one she usually left open even David was over, that the memories of the previous night finally caught up to her.

Killian.

The detox plan.

 _Shit._

Emma hurried out of the bedroom, turning left to the semi-closed bathroom door. Cringing she reached forward and knocked.

"Killian?" Emma called out quietly when the noise in the bathroom had quieted.

"Sorry to have woken you," came Killian's reply, followed by a flush. "Go back to bed." The man sounded miserable. Emma's chest clenched. There was no way she was leaving him alone like that.

Emma reached forward again and pushed the door open with her fingertips, peering around the space. Killian sat on the cold tile floor, his back pressed against the bathtub shower combo, eyes closed. Skin pale. Hair sweaty. Looking exhausted.

"I seem to have drank more than I'm used to last night," Killian mumbled, eyes still closed. Emma gave her head a little shake, chewing her lip.

"You, my friend, are hungover." Emma realized after she said it that that was the statement and tone she used with David. Her closest friend. And here she was using it with Killian Jones. And she didn't feel strange about it. Killian groaned in response. "Don't tell me you've never been hungover," Emma teased, trying to dissolve the tightness inside her with a light tone, as she moved to the sink, wetting the face cloth that hung over to the side.

"Not for a while," Killian responded, finally cracking open a blue eye. His gaze bore into her, studying her pyjama clad figure as she moved closer to him, offering the cloth in her hand. Killian took it and scrubbed at his face.

"And how do you manage that?" Emma asked, squatting down beside him.

"Hair of the dog that bit me. Don't suppose I can have some of that?" Killian's voice wasn't really serious, not expecting Emma to give in, but there was that edge to it. One that was teetering on the precipice of need. Killian might be okay with abstinence now but in a few hours that may be a different story.

"No. No alcohol at all," Emma answered firmly. Killian heaved a sigh followed by another groan, leaving the cool cloth to sit on his face like a mask.

Emma sat back on her haunches, studying Killian. She couldn't just leave him in the bathroom feeling that way. She knew bad hangovers and Killian was probably in the middle of a killer one. One that would only get worse as they progressed through the week. Greasy food, usually involving multiple bear claws was Emma's preferred medicine but she wasn't big on the idea of feeding Killian something fatty and horrible for his body. Not when he had probably lived on takeout pizza and rum for the past year. Killian needed to get his shit back together and he wasn't doing that with bacon.

It felt a bit like the blind leading the blind.

But at least she was trying.

Emma stood. "Okay, Killian. You're going to get in the shower now. You smell and I'm pretty sure I could fry an egg in your hair. You'll feel better after a cold shower to wake you up. While you're in there I'm going to go find breakfast." Emma turned the shower on, the water whistling through the tap.

"Anyone ever tell you you're excellent with compliments?" Killian drawled, the facecloth puffing out in front of his mouth as he talked. Emma rolled her eyes even though he couldn't see her.

"Yeah. Twice a day at least. It's why I'm a cop. Now, up." Emma waited in the bathroom until Killian had pulled himself off the floor, swaying on the spot for a few minutes as his equilibrium adjusted. "Soap and shampoo are in there. Sorry about the scent of them. Towels are hung over the rack. If you need more they're in the cupboard by the door. Leave the door unlocked. I don't want to have to break it down to haul your ass out of the tub if you pass out and drown."

"There are easier ways to see me naked," Killian responded with a waggle of his eyebrows and a hard glint in his eye. This man was supposed to be hungover, detoxing, and feeling like shit, and here he was going for the cheap flirts. It was ridiculous. A shot of heat rushed through Emma anyways. She tamped it down and put on her best cool, unaffected mask.

"Fuck off, Jones." With that she turned on her heel and marched out of the room, letting the door close behind her with a soft click.


	7. Clean

_A/N:_ Just a short little chapter today. I'm sorry about the length but this chapter is important. It's all about Killian's mentality and decisions. It fit to end it after this little scene because where it picks up for the next is one that's important for Emma. But the next chapter is a good one in my opinion and twice as long. All the chapters are getting much longer. I've lost a good chunk of readers and I'm pretty sure it's because of the style of this story which is a bit hard sometimes to send out one chapter at a time because it's very introspective (and especially so when I've got fifteen chapters written and want to share everything). So I really want to thank everyone who's stuck with this story. I promise it is going to keep getting better as you learn more about the characters. So thank you, I appreciate you all so, so much! You're awesome! Let me know what you think of this one! Enjoy!

Warning: This chapter mentions alcohol abuse.

Disclaimer: All aspects of Once Upon A Time belong to ABC and the show's creators.

 _Fuck off, Jones._

How many times had Killian used that line about easier ways to get him naked with women who spilled beer on his clothing at bars, with his wardrobe department who dressed him for the red carpet, with that film director who wanted to do a music video on the beach a few years prior? It always got him laughs. Got him women to flirt back- women who'd then follow him excitedly back to whatever hotel room he was staying in. The line worked. A wink here. A raised eyebrow there. And Killian got exactly what he wanted.

But it didn't work on Emma Swan. She wanted nothing to do with him. No charms. No slickness. No persona. No _Killian Jones._

But what about the old Killian Jones?

What about the man he'd left behind? That man had been missing for so long _Killian Jones_ wasn't sure what he was actually like save for vague memories and snippets of stories. The one with manners. The one who had hidden his shyness behind charm instead of hiding crippling insecurities and self-hate behind the quick and lilting words that usually worked so well for him. The one who had loved music. The one who liked to read, especially books about the pirates that were such a soft spot for him. The one that felt like there was more to him than rum, sweat and eyeliner. Maybe that was the man Emma would grin for. Would roll her eyes good naturedly instead of annoyed for. Would be interested in.

 _Interested?_

Did Killian actually want Emma to be interested in him? And a more important question- did Killian want to be interested in her? _Was_ he interested in her? She was a beautiful woman with a body that had caught his attention immediately, but was there more to his feelings towards her than that? Because Emma didn't seem like the kind of woman to put up with being led on. She didn't _deserve_ that. Or to be treated like a tissue- a blow and a throw. Just thinking about that made Killian's stomach turn and forced him to lean over the toilet again to retch.

Either his hangover had impeccable timing or he'd answered his own question.

Maybe he shouldn't consider the idea of being with Emma Swan again until after this ordeal was over. Killian flushed the toilet and stood, joints groaning. _Damn it_ , he felt like shit.

"You okay in there, Killian?" Emma called, voice wary, rapping the door with her knuckles but not trying to open it.

"Just peachy. Getting in the shower now." Killian rattled the shower curtain to make it seem like he was getting in. Which he would. Once he managed to pull his clothing off.

It had only been a few hours and Killian could already feel it in his bones. Aching. Pulling. A pinch in the joint if he moved the wrong way. The feeling that someone was slowly stretching on each end of his muscles, tightening them to the point where they would start to tremble under the force soon. There had been no lie in his words when he said he rarely got hungover. For one, his tolerance was obscenely high and two, Killian usually had his flask on him for a little nip when he woke up in the morning.

His flask. It was still in his coat. Hanging off the edge of Emma Swan's couch. Twenty feet away. Ten fast footsteps. A clench of his hand. A pop of the cap. That was all that stood in his way. The only barriers to swallowing down the warm rum and bringing relief. It would be so easy.

No.

 _No._

 _Damnit Killian, you're stronger than this._

It had been less than twelve hours and he was already ready to throw away the chance Emma had given him in order to go back to that easy life. It made Killian sick, right deep down in his soul, that he was so weak. How many years had Killian fought, struggled and prayed until Neverland's Lost Pirates had gotten a record deal? How many years had Killian lived with no one but his brother to remind him that he wasn't alone in the world? Killian used to think he was strong. And now he was standing in a generous stranger's bathroom practically tasting the bittersweet liquid on his tongue. _Pathetic._

Emma deserved better. She deserved someone who would work on this as hard as she would be. She was giving up her free time, her couch, her privacy- which was probably the biggest thing for the skittish lass- for him. Only to be woken up by a hungover, nauseous alcoholic who apparently looked like shit. And here he was, ready to give up long before she was, just because he was getting uncomfortable.

Killian turned to the small mirror hanging over the sink, studying his features for the first time in several days. Lately, Killian never felt the need to look in the mirror. If he wanted to see himself, he could google his own face. The pictures were always better than the reality anyways. The mirror was just a reminder of what he'd become. And that morning, that little profile image from that Twitter account Regina made him get was a hell of a lot better.

Killian knew he was good looking. He wasn't stupid. He used it to his advantage on a regular basis. But he used to be handsome. Tread the line between edgy celebrity and proper British gentleman. Now his hair, which used to be shiny and windswept, have that look of a seafaring model despite spending the day in a record studio, was too long. The way it used to cowlick slightly across the top of his forehead was gone, now hanging limp, the length too heavy for the little curl to hold up. Killian felt for that little curl. The skin that used to be a healthy tan colour was pale. Of course he'd been touring and then a recluse so he wasn't sure why he was surprised his skin looked like it had never seen the sun. It wasn't like he was running or sailing anymore. Eyes bloodshot from a poor night's sleep, early morning wake up and dehydration. Lips chapped. Beard too long. Didn't help that he couldn't remember the last time he'd taken a _proper_ shower.

 _Oh how the mighty have fallen._

That temptation crawled in again. It was easy to ignore the fall when oblivion was always waiting. But this time knowing that drinking wasn't because it was what people expected, that it made the nights in another woman's bed easier, that it gave him an excuse not to write, would oblivion still be as sweet? Would oblivion even be there or would it just be that self-loathing tunnel he sometimes ended up in if he took a wrong turn on the way there?

 _No._ Not this time. If Killian was going to fall back into that fogy hole it wasn't going to be for lack of trying. Killian could make it through the morning. Killian _had_ to make it through the morning. If he didn't Killian was pretty sure he'd never find the strength to dig himself out of the rum soaked hole again.

 _A man unwilling to fight for what he wants, deserves what he gets._

Killian started. Those words floating through his mind had been in his brother's voice. _Liam._ Killian gasped out a sob as the words floated away again. That voice had been gone from his memory since just days after the accident- pushed from his mind as he started to drink. It had been why he'd started to drink in the first place. No sleep had been possible with Liam's voice running through his head, over and over. Pulling at and expanding the guilt. So Killian had gotten rid of it. Liam had always told Killian that line when he complained that something ahead of him was too hard. Being a proper musician. Finishing that first CD. Facing that first sold out stadium. And now it was back as Killian stared down that shell of himself in Emma Swan's bathroom mirror.

Fight for what he wants. What even was that? Absolutely everything he'd lost?

Music.

Friends.

Love.

Self-respect.

Liam's pride.

 _Life._

How was he even supposed to pick?

One thing. Start with one. Even getting one thing back would be a fight. But listing all those things out in his head Killian realized that he _wanted_ them. _All of them._ But it needed to be one thing at a time or he would fail, no matter how antsy he was to get everything back. Maybe he could start with self-respect and clean himself up?

With a haste Killian didn't think he'd been possible of, joints cracking as his arms ripped the shirt over his head, he turned to the shower. The sweatpants, grey and well-worn, came off next. Both were thrown into a pile on the floor. On legs shaky from the adrenaline of hearing the memory version of Liam's voice again, Killian climbed into the shower, letting the icy spray sting his skin and fire his nerve endings. Focus him as best as it could by cutting through the throbbing headache. The spray ached but it cleansed, water droplets bunching over what was left of his personal trainer created muscles. Puddles of floral shampoo and conditioner were rubbed into his hair. Two rounds of body wash were scraped across every centimetre of skin until the loofah had given him friction burns.

The whole process was exhausting. By the time Killian shut the water off he was shaking, aching, needing to go back to sleep. But he was _clean._

Killian dried quickly, redressing and wishing he'd had his own clean clothes to change into. But his other clothing was salt water and grime covered and the ones he wore now were given when they didn't have to be. Killian really was in no place to complain. A shaking hand pushed the still dripping locks out of his face so he could check his appearance in the mirror. Killian didn't look much different. But he felt just a tiny bit better. And maybe, if he moved his hair the right way, that little curl of a cowlick looked like it was starting to come back.


	8. Trust

_A/N:_ Thank you so much for all your support on the last chapter. It's really nice to see all the people who continue to read my work, and especially cool to see the names that were with me right from The Absense of You. I love you all, even if I don't get the chance to respond because of time committments. I hope you enjoy this chapter! Let me know what you think!

Warning: This chapter contains mentions of alcohol abuse.

Disclaimer: All aspects of Once Upon A Time belong to ABC and the show's creators.

Emma was plating scrambled eggs at the counter- pretty much the only thing she had ingredients for which was rather sad since it only took eggs and milk- when the bathroom door creaked open. She resisted the urge to glance up right away but it was hard. The longer Killian had been in there, the more worried she had gotten. What was she going to do if he'd sat down and then passed out? Or if he was in there drinking mouthwash? At one point she was pretty sure she'd heard a sob but whatever was happening in there with him shouldn't be her business. She needed to trust him. Or at least pretend she did and hope it became a self-fulfilling prophecy because Emma didn't trust. But she was good at make believe. So instead of giving in the urge to bust down the door she turned the stove fan up louder so she couldn't hear anymore sounds from the bathroom and concentrated on not burning the only breakfast she knew how to properly make.

Emma didn't turn from the stove until she heard Killian sit at the counter, the bar stool creaking under him. When she did turn towards Killian she had to fight a look of shock. Killian was still rough looking but he was clean, hair combed off his face. The smudgy eyeliner was gone which helped to lessen the look of exhaustion Killian wore. Despite herself Emma had to acknowledge the man looked pretty good. Or at least a whole lot better in comparison to the man she'd found in her bathroom that morning. Emma bit down on her tongue to stop the thoughts, turning her gaze down to the two plates. She pushed one towards Killian, turning away quickly again to grab forks.

"No pancakes and grease?" Killian asked good naturedly as he accepted the fork Emma offered. "Isn't that typical hangover food?" Emma shook her head, feeling a bit bad that she didn't have anything more to offer. Emma was used to low stocked cupboards and when David and Mary Margaret showed up they usually brought the food because Mary Margaret was an amazing cook. Even though Emma had the money to fill them it just seemed wrong. Not after her childhood. What would happen if she had to leave? Would it all go to waste? The idea of wasting food for Emma was awful after spending years with fridges chained shut and only enough to survive. Would she have to try to stuff it in her car to take with her if she had to run? Crates of food in the back of a bright yellow Bug didn't make for a quick get away. Takeout was better because she could eat it over two days and then it was gone. It was also the kind of food that didn't feel as bad eating alone on the couch. Plus, there was the fact that no one had ever really taught her to cook growing up. Sure she ate like a four-year-old and she'd been in Boston for years now with no plan to run but the part of her that needed to know she could run if she had to was stronger than the part that wanted to be a good homemaker.

Killian must have caught a look on her face because he immediately dropped his fork. "Lass, I was joking," he said quickly. "The eggs are great. I don't think I could stomach anything more."

"Yeah, uh, I don't really cook for myself so I don't have much here." Emma shoveled a forkful of eggs in her mouth. "I'm going to go to the store though this morning. Eating healthy foods will help with the detox."

Killian tilted his head, studying her as he chewed a mouthful. The way his eyes watched her, so much clearer than the night before, made it feel like he was seeing more than she wanted him to. Like her soul was spilling all her secrets and there was nothing she could do to shut it up. Emma spun on her heel, moving to the coffee maker, getting a cup starting to brew with harsh movements.

"And how would you know that?" Killian asked carefully, picking his words slowly. The way he did it made Emma think that he knew why and was looking for confirmation. If Killian had already figured it out she didn't see a point in lying, especially since he would need to actually follow through with the healthy food okay. But just because she was going to answer truthfully didn't mean she would do it while looking at those too blue eyes.

"I did some research," Emma answered equally slowly.

"After you went to bed?"

"Yeah." Emma still didn't turn around, starting a second cup of coffee for Killian instead.

"That was really late," he answered, slightly awed in tone. As if he couldn't believe someone would google something for him. Which was totally bizarre since he was a rock star. Women literally pulled their bras off and threw them at him in public. People probably sent him letters and gifts all the time. And yet he was impressed that Emma had stayed up past two in the morning for him to lay in her bed and flick through her phone?

"So anyways," Emma started, changing the subject before Killian started questioning _why_ , "I'm going to go grocery shopping as soon as I'm done of breakfast." She finally turned, keeping from making eye contact with Killian and set a coffee down in front of him. "I need to get some supplies. You should make a list of anything you want." Emma reached into the junk drawer under the counter and pulled out a sticky note pad she'd snagged from some hotel and a pen, also pocketed from some other business, and handed them over. "I'd invite you to come but it looks like you could use some more sleep." Nor was he in any shape to be out in public but Emma didn't feel the need to voice that part.

Killian nodded, seeming to understand the whole reason. "If you're going to buy things for me, you'll take my credit card."

Emma immediately backed up. She hated the idea of taking someone's money. She'd worked too hard to pull herself out of the way she'd started to get a stable job that she enjoyed. "No, it's fine."

"Emma," Killian started again slowly, holding up a placating hand. "You're allowing me to stay in your house. Use your water. Eat your food," he said with a motion to his now empty plate. "Sleep on your couch. Wake you up too early in the morning. And we're just getting started with this week." Killian's face twisted, a bit of dread breaking through his easy expression. The look was quickly covered with a sip of coffee. "You've asked for nothing in return, lass. I can't tell you how much I appreciate what you're doing. I've got more money than I could ever use."

"I've got money too," Emma cut in, somewhat pathetically because there was no way she had more money than Killian. But she was independent. She could handle a grocery order. Wasn't like Emma made a habit out of buying food. Maybe this would actually be good for both of them.

"Aye, I know. And I'm not trying to lord my credit card over you. But I'll feel better if you take it. I've not spent my money on something worthwhile in a long time. It's about time someone uses it to buy carrots." Killian sounded genuine. Not like he wanted to push into Emma's space and take over. But like he just wanted to _help_. How long had it been since he'd felt helpful?

"I'm not just going to buy carrots," Emma answered with an eye roll, giving in. If Killian needed this, then Emma would swallow her pride and give it to him.

"Honestly, I don't care what you buy with the card. I trust you."

 _I trust you._ Emma had thought he sounded genuine before but this- this Killian really meant. After one night Killian trusted her. To not steal all his money. To get him food. To care for him. No one ever really trusted Emma unless she was in her uniform or it was the Nolans. Everyone else thought she was prickly. A flight risk. Scarred. Which she probably was. But here was Killian who barely knew her, offering his trust.

Emma gave him a sharp nod not knowing what to say to that without embarrassing herself. Things like that weren't supposed to matter. She was going to help Killian get through this week and then he'd go on his way, sell a million more albums and then never think of her again. No point in getting attached. Despite everything she knew, that still made Emma feel sad. "I'm going to go get dressed. Make up that list with whatever you need," she instructed, voice rough before setting her dishes in the sink and disappearing into her room.

Emma shut the door behind her, flopping down face first onto the mattress. She wasn't supposed to care like this. She just _wasn't._ She was supposed to look after him. Babysit for lack of a better term. Keep her distance. Not feel sad at the prospect of being alone again once he left. Because it wasn't being alone that was upsetting. Emma was used to that. It was going back to a life without Killian Jones. Which made no sense to her because that, Emma was even more used to. She'd not even known who he was two weeks prior. It was like missing someone who lived in Australia that you never met and never spoke to but maybe saw once at an airport when you lived in France. It didn't make _sense_ to Emma.

Except maybe it did.

 _Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._

She _didn't_ feel things towards Killian Jones. She _couldn't._

She wouldn't.

Emma sat up abruptly, head spinning a bit in the rush, but the light headedness drove the troubling thoughts from her mind so she wouldn't complain. Once the world had steadied she quickly got dressed then slipped from her room without looking towards the counter and headed into the bathroom to finish getting ready.

By the time Emma had finished brushing her teeth she'd calmed back down. Things would be fine. She would be fine.

Killian was still sitting at the counter when she got out of the bathroom but his head was bowed onto his folded arms.

"You okay?" Emma asked, approaching him slowly.

"Sure. But I think the construction team in my brain may need some help to finish the job."

Emma snorted a laugh before she could stop herself. "You need some more water and Tylenol and then to go back to sleep. Have you finished your list?" Emma asked as she moved to the kitchen to pour a glass of water.

"Yeah." Killian sat up, nudging the pad towards her, looking drained. She felt bad for him. The week ahead was going to be brutal if he already looked like this now. She felt a caretaker urge flare inside. One that was different than the desire to protect she had while on duty. One that was stronger. Emma traded him the pad for a glass of water, shoving the paper into her back pocket.

"Come on, let's get you set up."

Killian pulled himself off the bar stool and slowly followed her towards the couch. While Killian flopped down onto the worn leather with a sigh, Emma opened the bottle of Tylenol, shaking some out into her palm. Once Killian had settled, the blanket pulled up over his legs, Emma handed over the medicine, his calloused fingers brushing across her skin as he grabbed the tablets, sending sparks up her arm. Emma pulled back quickly, practically diving for the tv stand to get the remote. If Killian noticed her discomfort he said nothing, just grabbed for his pants and pulled out his wallet.

"I've written my pin number on the bottom of the list. But get whatever you think we'll need." Despite herself and what she'd decided earlier she really liked the sound of we. Emma pushed the thought away, frustrated at her own inability to stay focused.

"Sure," she answered moving back and taking the card, careful not to touch him this time. Emma set the remote down on the coffee table next to the now half drunk glass of water and took a step back, giving her space. "Thanks. So are you sure you're going to be okay while I'm gone?" She was starting to feel nervous about leaving him alone.

Killian nodded. "I think so. I'm going to try and sleep."

"Good. You'll need your strength." If what Emma had read the previous night was going to happen, it wouldn't be long until Killian could no longer get to sleep. Which meant she was probably not going to be able to either. Maybe she should pick up some more coffee while she was out.

They fell into silence for a few moments, watching each other, not sure what to do. Killian was clearly struggling and Emma didn't want to leave him but she needed supplies. What if he needed her? "Give me your phone," Emma instructed quickly, holding out her hand. Killian complied immediately, fishing it out of a different pocket in his dirty jeans, opening it up and handing it over. Emma quickly typed herself in as a new contact, trying not to think too hard about what she was doing before giving the phone back. She half expected Killian to try another one of those obnoxious one-liners as he studied the screen and her new contact but he didn't. Instead he just looked up at her with a small, almost shy, smile.

"Thanks."

Emma nodded, moving towards the door. "Let me know if you need anything or want anything added to the list. The TV is hooked up to Netflix if you want it. Finish your water before you go to sleep." Emma pulled on her favourite black boots and grabbed her purse before she glanced back at Killian.

Killian looked troubled, like he was fighting an internal battle. Trying to decide something. Maybe it was just the anxiety kicking in. She dawdled around the door for a few more moments in case he needed something, pretending to struggle with whether she should take a coat or not.

"Swan?" Killian called, quiet, tentative. It was a different tone than she was used to with him. One that was full of quiet determination but also fear. Emma turned, and raised a brow. "Can you take this for me?" Killian reached for his leather jacket, sticking his hand into the pocket and producing a beaten up flask.

Emma hurried back to him. Alcohol. Why didn't she think to check his belongings for booze? _Because you're trying to let him do this for himself._ A flash of pride went through her that Killian had decided to give her this clearly well used flask of his own volition. The words from earlier came back to her. _I trust you._ It really did seem like he meant it. Despite that, she was still thankful she'd drank all the beer in her fridge last weekend with David so her apartment was clear. Killian may trust her but Emma was still working on it. But things like this made her believe that eventually she may get there.

Emma took the flask from Killian, his fingers pulling away reluctantly. It was obvious how much it took from him to give up the alcohol he had.

"That's all I've got, Swan. Keep good care of the flask for me?"

Emma glanced down at the metal canister. It was silver, dented in two of the corners with a pirate ship engraved on the front and his name on the back. It looked like a gift. Emma found herself wondering what the story was behind it.

"Sure. Maybe you can put goat's milk or something in it later."

"Maybe." Despite his light tone, there was no expression to match on his face.

The emotion was thick in the air. Emma took a few steps back towards the door, grabbing her purse. "I'll keep it safe. Don't worry." She slipped the flask into her purse. She'd figure out what to do with it to keep it protected later. "Get some sleep. I'll be back soon."

Killian didn't seem to want to talk anymore so he gave her a nod then laid down on the sofa, rolling onto his side. Emma took that as her cue to leave. To give Killian some alone time to process.

Once she was in her Bug Emma pulled the list from her pocket. Written in looping but shaky handwriting and organized into two columns was Killian's list.

 _Orange juice. Razors_

 _Red Powerade Shaving cream_

 _Chocolate Pudding T-shirts (M)_

 _Tea Boxers (M)_

 _Shampoo Body wash_

It was a strange list but it wasn't outlandish. There was a Trader Joe's nearby that she could get most of the things she had on her own list at and some of Killian's and then the rest she could probably find at a drugstore on the way. Emma hadn't ever gone to a Trader Joe's but it seemed like the place to go to get healthy food.

She felt like a four-year-old trying to be an adult. And that was a shitty feeling. A blow to her pride. Emma had always thought she was good at taking care of herself. Hell, she prided herself in her ability to need no one else. But the idea of going to buy produce at this type of store and having to cook healthy meals and be a proper adult was overwhelming. Sitting in her Bug and staring at the map on her phone, a bright red icon pointing out the grocery story, she realized she'd never actually learned to live. To thrive. Everything had been about survival.

With Killian now in her life that seemed to be changing.

Emma threw her phone onto the passenger seat. She could do this. She could figure this process out. These were skills she needed to learn. She needed to learn how to do that trick with the mango. How to find other parts of the grocery store than the aisle they kept Mr. Noodles in. She could totally learn to be like Mary Margaret when it came to actually providing for someone. What was adding a few oranges or avocadoes- whatever they taste like- to her kitchen? Fruit was small, she could throw it in the glove box of her car if she had to. The one good thing about being prideful was that when she took a blow, realized she wasn't capable of everything, she got determined.

Emma kept that determination fiery in her chest as she marched into Trader Joes like she was going to war.


	9. Pudding Cups

_A/N:_ A bit more about Killian here. Hope you like it! I wish I could show you the chapter I just wrote (15)- I can't wait for you all to see what's coming up in this process and for our characters! And be warned: there's a panic attack in this chapter so please be careful if you find that kind of thing triggering. And happy 4th of July to my American readers! Thanks for all the support! You're all amazing! Let me know what you think of this one! Enjoy!

Warning: This chapter contains mentions of alcohol abuse.

Disclaimer: All aspects of Once Upon A Time belong to ABC and the show's creators.

Killian was woken by the sound of a kick and a curse followed by a series of incoherent mumblings as the voice tried to quiet itself. Somewhere after Emma had left, carrying that gift that Milah had given him the first time he returned from tour with _Neverland's Lost Pirates_ , he'd found himself falling into a restless sleep. Emma kept hinting that he'd need his rest now, before the later stages of withdrawal struck but as he tossed around on the couch, slipping halfway off the cushions, it seemed like he was already there. His dreams were hazy memories, called up by the torturer that was currently setting up his work desk in the back of his brain. There was that feeling, that dread, that sleep was already lost to him. That a lot of things had been lost to him.

Killian cracked an eye open to watch Emma struggle to get into the apartment, her arms laden with more bags than should have been possible for one trip up two flights of stairs. Here was one person who had found him when everything else had disappeared from him. Who was determined to put up with his shit during this process. Even if that meant toting excessive amounts of Red Powerade up stairs.

With a groan Killian pushed himself off the couch, crossing the floor to catch some of the bags in Emma's arms. His muscles protested as he caught the plastic handholds of the bags that looked closest to falling on the floor.

"Thanks," Emma breathed with a sigh of relief as she made her way into the kitchen with the rest of the bags. Killian followed suit, dropping the on the counter before moving to the bar stool to sit, his legs shaky from even such a short distance of walking. He tried not to let that frustrate him. It was part of the process. The tremors would go away eventually. But it was really hard to remember that. There wasn't much he could do to help Emma put things away in his state so instead he sat there helpless. And frustrated.

Emma pulled out several different bags of fruit, peaches, a mango, cut up watermelon, berries and oranges, a salad mix, an avocado and a few containers of precut vegetables like carrots and onions. Following that was a loaf of bread- whole wheat, not the Wonderbread he would have expected her to pick from the state of her kitchen- and pasta– whole wheat as well- and sauce to go with it. Next came a variety of jugs of different liquids in a rainbow of colours. Among the food Emma also pulled out the objects Killian had requested, piling the clothing and shaving equipment on top of each other before putting the food stuffs away.

"That's quite the haul," Killian mused, his voice a bit breathier and shakier than he had planned.

Emma glanced up at him, studying his features as she rolled the avocado across her palm. "I guess so," she answered. "Biggest one I've ever made."

That struck Killian. It made sense considering there were cobwebs in some of her cupboards but it still seemed strange. Emma had a stable job and a very modest apartment with minimal furniture. But she kept a vintage car running, had a Netflix subscription and wore name brand clothing even though she didn't seem to have much. The same went for the hygiene products in her bathroom. Emma Swan bought nice things but never had very much. She didn't seem to be hurting financially so it raised an interesting puzzle.

"Looks like you made it a good one," Killian replied, trying to keep the curiosity out of his voice.

Emma gave a nod at the food she had in her hand, almost as if she was satisfied with herself, before putting the produce into the fridge. There was the sound of scraping as she pushed the produce drawer back into it's unused space in the fridge, now full of supplies. Killian couldn't see Emma past the door but he could hear her shuffling around in the fridge and the sound of liquid sloshing.

"Here," Emma said tentatively, appearing with a personal sized clear container of what looked like green sludge. "Drink this."

"What is it?" Killian asked, eyeing the juice. It was the kind of thing he'd seen all over LA when he'd been there last but he hadn't much been interested in liquids that weren't amber in colour at that time.

And there it was again. That aching, cloying need. That pull that felt like it was yanking him through the floor, wood shards scraping at his skin before burying into his joints. It had only been twelve hours and he already _needed_ it. More than oxygen. The tremors in his hands got worse as the stress settled into his appendages. He could feel Emma staring at him but couldn't hear her words. Not when his heartbeat was raging in his ears. Drowning. He was going to drown in the sound. That didn't even make sense but in that moment it felt like it was possible. Like the noise was stealing his breath.

Or he was going to have a heart attack. Honestly, that was probably preferred to suffocating. A shaking hand went to his chest, trying to grip at the shirt which had started to dampen with sweat. How wonderful was it to die in such a beautiful woman's presence? Maybe in his last moments, Killian would have this blessing.

"Killian!" Emma shouted. She must have been yelling loudly if he could hear. Her voice sounded panicked. Killian suddenly felt horrible for forcing her to witness his heart beating it's way out of his chest.

Ice cold water flew against his face. Burning. Freezing. It snapped him back to reality, sending him gasping as his mind cleared of the rush of blood in his ears. Killian's vision, which he hadn't realized had clouded, cleared and he looked up. Emma stood in front of him, pale, green eyes wide, holding a large glass in one hand, water running off her fingers.

"Did you just soak me?" Killian gasped out, swiping water from his face with a shaking hand. The water hadn't seemed to startle away that symptom. It did help the rest of the panic, the anxiety, start to fall away, dripping off him like the water droplets.

"You were having a panic attack," she answered, starting to blush. "I didn't know what else to do."

All Killian could do was shake his head. Of course Emma would think the proper response was to dump ice cold water over him instead of trying to soothe him. It honestly didn't surprise him. Emma Swan didn't seem like the kind of person to waste words on anything that wasn't practical. From the empty cupboards to the harsh way she'd reminded him multiple times of her gun, to the way she'd ended his panic attack without any physical closeness- it spoke of a past that had been harsh to her. Only that wasn't everything about Emma. It wasn't all harsh edges and sharp shards. She had offered her personal space as a refuge for him on numerous occasions.

What he wouldn't do to get to solve her puzzle.

Killian gave a shake of his head. "Sorry, I started thinking about-"

"I know," Emma answered quickly before he could say the word. She still looked a little pale and with a jerky movement held out the juice she still grasped in the hand that wasn't dripping water everywhere. "Drink this instead. It's got spinach and apple and cucumber and a bunch of green things that you're supposed to eat to get your folic acid so you have cell regeneration or something like that," Emma trailed off. Killian knew the "something like that" was meant to lessen the impact of her words. She knew exactly what vegetables he was supposed to be eating and why. His chest constricted, but not in the way it had with the panic attack. He still couldn't believe that the Mr. Noodles connoisseur had taken time out of her sleep schedule to learn exactly what his diet needed to consist of and why.

Killian took the bottle and unscrewed the cap, lifting it to his lips. The liquid smelled like a farm and made his stomach roll but he just couldn't say no to Emma and ask for his Powerade instead. Not when she had put so much work into making sure he had everything he needed during his recovery. So, in an effort to show her how much he appreciated it Killian guzzled it back to stop it from sitting on his tongue. When he had swallowed half he pulled away, gasping as the taste filtered in- a sweet, grassy flavour. A healthy flavour.

A short laugh came out of Emma as she watched his facial expressions change. "It's good for you."

"It's burning off my taste buds," Killian answered but with little conviction. Emma just rolled her eyes as Killian lifted the bottle again and finished off the forest squeezings.

"And it won't be the last. They say you won't be hungry through the process. You need your nutrients some how."

"You've put a lot of thought into this."

Emma didn't say anything, the words too true for her, and instead turned back to the counter. It seemed like any words that belayed her true feelings, the caring actions she would rather keep behind a closed door, were too much. They made her run. Maybe she wasn't used to people observing her? Maybe she was used to being alone? Killian knew that feeling. How would she take an actual compliment if she couldn't even handle his platonic, casual words? Killian desperately wanted to find out. Now was just not the time.

Emma grabbed the clothing off the counter, trading them for the now empty bottle in Killian's hand. "You probably want to get changed now that you're all wet."

"Too bad I'm the only one who's wet," Killian replied before he could stop himself, a knee jerk reaction as that persona he'd groomed as armour flared up. Emma stiffened, face falling carefully blank as she absorbed his words. _Bloody buggering fuck._ Couldn't he keep his mouth shut? This was Emma Swan, not some drunk bar fly. There was a time when Killian wouldn't have said those words to anyone- too shy and quiet to. Taught by a noble older brother to respect the manners he ingrained in Killian. But these last few years- Killian didn't even know who he was anymore.

"I'm going to go do a wash," Emma said in careful, measured words. In strides that were just as tense as her voice, she disappeared into her bedroom.

Killian banged his head against the counter. _Stupid._ One step forward. Eight thousand steps back. With just a handful of words he'd once again scared Emma into closing herself off. Killian didn't understand why she had such reactions, why the idea of such comments had her acting like a scared clam. What had happened to her in that past she kept so hidden?

While his head was down he heard hurried steps rush behind him, to the couch where the sound of Killian's dirty jeans and shirt sweeping off the leather and into the basket she must have been carrying reached his ears, then out the door. While Killian had desperately wanted to see her face, see the damage he had done to their tenuous friendship, he knew she needed the space.

But when she came back, he would apologize. Profusely. Like the gentleman he used to be. Maybe if he pretended long enough he actually might become that man again.

Twenty minutes later the doorknob turned and Emma entered, peaking around the door to see Killian sitting on the couch, two unopened pudding cups and spoons in front of him. She kept her face neutral as she entered with her empty plastic laundry hamper. Killian tried not to let his hands shake too much as he patted the cushion beside him.

"Swan, can we please talk?" Emma's mask slipped for a moment, showing a flash of fear. Killian sighed. "I promise I won't say anything oafish. And I have pudding." Emma snorted at the last statement, rolling her eyes. But his words seemed to work, Emma moving over to the couch, setting down her basket and settling at the complete opposite end. The distance between them felt like miles but it shouldn't. _It shouldn't._ They were friends. This was a respectable distance. But it was too far.

Killian grabbed one of the chocolate pudding cups, the brand he'd used to eat with Liam all the time when the paychecks were scarce and they bought by sales, and held it out to her. She didn't take it, just watching him cautiously, pulling her legs up under her. Killian sighed again and dropped the pudding and spoon by her foot.

"Look, Swan, I'm sorry about what I said earlier. And this morning in the bathroom. And that first time I left your apartment. Hell, I'm sorry for everything I've done with you. You had to arrest me for fuck's sake." Killian stopped and took a deep breath. This was far less eloquent than he had planned. "What I'm trying to say is that this isn't the man I want to be. I don't want to be an," Killian dug his fingers into his sweatpants clad thigh as he struggled with the word, "an alcoholic. I don't want to be the kind of man who says and does things that end up as front page tabloid and are vulgar to you. Can you believe I used to think I was a gentleman?" Killian gave a rough laugh. Emma was watching him carefully, guarded, but giving him her full attention. In that moment, looking at her, being in her space, Killian decided he needed to go further. That he _wanted_ to go further.

Killian grabbed for his own pudding cup, holding it but not opening it, feeling like it was holding onto a bit of his old life. It had been a surprise to open the fridge and find that familiar brand sitting there when Emma had obviously bought the best she could of everything else but he was grateful for whatever reason had possessed her to choose such a kind.

"I had a rough year a few years ago. Just over three years really. Seems like yesterday though." The quick intake of breath from Emma didn't go unnoticed by Killian but he couldn't look at her. Not if he wanted to do this right. "It was one thing after another. First my first love, my Milah, left me. I wanted to marry her. Turned out she was already married. Milah's not even her real name. She went back to her old husband when he got made signing partner at some huge Los Angeles media agency. Made more than I did with the band. I loved that woman so much that I probably still do," Killian admitted, heat flaring in his chest. "She took my bloody heart with her when she moved out of my house. And then, in a second cruel twist of fate, my brother died two weeks later." Killian's voice lost its volume and he gave the pudding cup a squeeze. His brother would have been so disappointed to see how far he'd fallen. Liam would have liked Emma though.

"My brother raised me." Emma shifted a little in her seat, turning more towards him. Killian still didn't look. "Yes, I was, still am I guess, an orphan since the age of thirteen. Liam was in the Navy, a captain. But he always came to as many shows as he could with me. He was going to retire from the navy the year after he died and join us on the road as security. But then there was an accident." Now Killian's voice broke for real, the emotions welling through the cracks in his armour he'd made by telling this story. Every word was another slice in that carefully constructed chain mail. Killian swallowed past a lump in his throat. "It was one of the hardest things I ever had to go through. I didn't get to say goodbye because he died in the middle of the bloody Atlantic. Two days after the funeral, when I was drowning myself in whatever alcohol I could reach," his hand clenched the pudding cup, the material inside pushing at the tin cover from the pressure, "my best mate, Robin's wife died. Some sort of congenital defect that they didn't know about that caught up to her. Robin, he had a young boy to take care of then all by himself and was grieving at the same time. I never once went to see him. I was too drunk to care. I guess you already know that from Ariel. Her husband was another bandmate and friend. So the band broke up. Robin started raising his son. I guess Eric got a job on the water like he always wanted when he got too old to tour. I have no idea what happened to Will. And I just signed on as a solo act because I had no idea what else to do. I still don't. I guess it was just easier to become this man than try to get a handle on everything. So I'm sorry that I say inappropriate things. I promise you're safe around me."

Those days still haunted him. The days of Eric and Will trying to pound down his door after Liam's funeral. And then after Marian's funeral. The days he had alcohol Postmated to him because he couldn't bare to go outside amongst the living. Not when there were so many ghosts haunting him. And then the shame and embarrassment started in. Each time Will or Eric showed up, yelling about how much Robin needed him and what a wanker he was being, it was another blow to what was left of the Killian Jones the world had known. And then they just stopped coming. And Killian drank until he forgot them. Not really ever able to, but enough that he could focus on the other demons sitting with him on his couch, hissing at him when he tried to sleep. Killian didn't even know the band had officially broken up until Regina had had a locksmith change the locks on the door to let her in and marched in with a contract, not leaving until he signed on as a solo artist because as she said, "at least then he was contracted to pretend to be a living human." The persona and the women and the public drinking had come quickly after. And never really stopped.

Emma was silent for a long while, taking long measured breaths. The pressure building between them. Uncomfortable. Heavy. Killian couldn't look at her. Couldn't see the pity in those emerald eyes. The judgement. The shame.

Killian didn't turn towards her until a movement surprised him. Emma had grabbed the pudding cup and was opening it, licking the pudding off the tin lid. Killian saw it for what it was- an acceptance of the peace offering.

"Thank you for telling me Killian. I uh," Emma pulled in a deep breath. "I appreciate you being honest. It means a lot." Emma herself sounded like she was battling with emotion. "I can't give you the same back though. Not right now."

The truth. Emma thought he'd done this so she'd admit her deepest demons. Killian slid around to face her, crossing his legs in front of him. "Swan, lass, I didn't tell you this to pry into your own life. I did it in the hopes that maybe you'd forgive me and see me for something different than the Killian Jones you arrested. I want you to know the man I'm trying to get back to."

Emma chewed on her lip, studying him carefully. Eventually she took a spoonful of pudding. "I understand," she said around a mouthful of pudding. Killian gave her a smile before letting his gaze drop to the dented plastic container in his hands. "And Killian?" Killian looked back up. Emma looked like she was battling to admit something. Killian waited quietly to see if she would. "You're not as bad as you think you are."

With that Emma pushed herself off the couch, grabbed the empty basket and left the apartment to go switch the laundry.


	10. Friends, Nothing More?

_A/N:_ Time to reveal a bit more about Emma! It's not everything but have no fear- we've got a big chapter about that coming up! And the next chapter's pretty intense- will post that Monday. Thanks for all your support on the story! It means so much to me! I had kind of a shitty thing happen at work yesterday but writing the story and focusing on getting to post this morning made things a bit better! You guys are just so awesome! Please let me know what you think of this chapter! Enjoy!

Warning: This chapter contains mentions of alcohol abuse.

Disclaimer: All aspects of Once Upon A Time belong to ABC and the show's creators.

Emma hadn't expected an apology when she'd gotten back to her apartment after hiding for too long in the laundry room. She'd figured she was just a means to an end for the famous musician. A couch to sleep on. An apartment to dry out in. Or at least that's what she'd allowed herself to believe instead of facing the truth that was this thing between them, whatever the hell it was, was real. But Killian had pulled off all the scabs he had to convince her he wasn't some shit guy. Wasn't going to let this be meaningless.

And Emma hadn't really known what to make of that. No one had ever revealed their darkest secrets with nothing in it for them except the hope to make a better impression. No one had ever really cared what impression they made on her- except for when she was on duty and then that was the uniform, not her. And that's what it came down to. Killian cared about her. What she thought about him. If she was upset at his words. And he hadn't demanded that she spill out anything from her past, open that box of carefully secured memories that would haunt her for days if she let them out to play.

It made it even harder for her to deny she felt nothing for the tortured, broken man currently sleeping on her couch.

So Emma had done what she did best. She ran. But not before admitting one little secret herself. That Killian wasn't that bad.

Killian wasn't bad at all. Emma could tell nothing he'd told her was a lie. Killian was a good man at heart who'd let himself slip away. Somewhere under layers of pickling was a good heart. A heart that wanted to be better, even if he did use vulgar innuendos when feeling threatened. One that recognized the things he'd done and took responsibility for them.

Emma had to sort the laundry for the dryer twice to stop herself from thinking about Killian. Because even if he wanted her to think about him differently, even if he was a good man, there was no way they could be more than friends. Killian was a famous musician with legions of friends and scandalous amounts of money. Emma was a guarded woman with a broken past who'd just barely managed to avoid a prison sentence as a minor for a crime she didn't commit. Emma didn't do relationships. Not since that very first one. And especially not when that first one had reared its ugly head again in the form of a murder case being slapped down on her work desk in the homicide unit. Just because Emma could understand the pain of Killian's past, didn't mean he wanted to understand hers. Or deserve to be saddled with another sad story.

No, they couldn't be more. Because Emma couldn't be what Killian needed.

Emma slammed the door to the dryer. There was no reason for her even to be thinking about being something more to Killian. Killian would never want her like that. It wasn't possible.

 _Focus on being a friend, Emma. That's all you can expect to get from the man. You're lucky you even have that possibility._

Emma had waited in the basement laundry room until the dryer load had finished before going back up to the apartment. She had spent the time watching the rotating tumble of clothes focusing herself. She was there to make sure Killian got better. Not pine over him. She needed to be a nurse. Not someone with a crush.

The one good thing about Emma's past was that she was good at locking away feelings she didn't want. Which was exactly what she did. When she walked into the apartment it was without any feelings that ventured into the territory past friendship.

Emma found Killian curled up on the couch, a light shake to his body as he slept restlessly. The man was getting worse. The panic attack had been proof enough. Emma had seen many panic attacks in her time- her line of work led to people getting into that sort of personal situation all the time- but this, she'd never seen someone fall into a panic attack so quickly up close. One minute they were joking about cold-pressed juice. The next Killian was hyperventilating, shaking, clutching at his chest as if someone were crushing his heart. Killian hadn't heard her as she called his name. As she instructed him to calm down, the only thing stopping her from pleading with him being the police training she'd felt herself slipping into. Throwing cold water at him probably wasn't the kindest way to stop the panic attack but Emma had seen that done as a child in one of the homes she was placed in and it had worked then and she really didn't know what else to do. Her feet wouldn't move her closer to him so she went for projectile ice water. It had worked.

But Emma wasn't proud of it. She had let her foster kid show. Something she'd been doing a lot with Killian around. Though she couldn't figure out how those habits were slipping through. Maybe it was because for the first time in years she was living in close proximity to someone and the behaviours, the fears, the reactions were never quite as well hidden as she had thought. Or maybe nothing was actually breaking through her façade. Maybe Killian Jones could see through it.

That was a terrifying prospect.

Killian let out a whimper on the sofa, pressing his face into the leather. Emma's heart clenched. She wasn't supposed to feel things beyond friendship for Killian but it was hard to pretend that the strength of her worry was just platonic. Emma worried about David and Mary Margaret but never with an intensity that she felt looking down at the trembling, pale man. _It's just because you're responsible for him, Emma. Nothing more. Never more._ Emma heaved a sigh, pushing away the thoughts and picked the blanket off the floor. She draped the coverlet over Killian's body, listening to a soft, calmer murmur as the warmth settled onto him. This time Emma's heart lurched for a different reason.

Nap. Emma needed to take a nap. She was exhausted. That was why she was feeling as she was. With a final look at Killian she gave a nod then headed to her bedroom, falling onto the bed and not even bothering to get under the sheets before she fell asleep.

In a strange déjà vu Emma was woken from her nap by the same noise as she had that morning. This time though it didn't take her a few moments for her sleep filled mind to place the sound. This time she knew exactly what was going on and rushed straight into the bathroom, just in time to find Killian throwing up the last of the green juice he'd drank earlier.

Killian didn't even look at her, instead resting his forehead against the edge of the cool porcelain he clung to as if it were the only thing holding him to the world. Emma swallowed a soft tsk and settled down on the tile floor behind him. It was far closer than she normally would have allowed, able to feel the heat radiating off his body and through her worn leggings but Killian seemed like he needed it. Emma might have been guarded but she wasn't that selfish. She could give him this.

Killian sagged backwards, exhausted, stilling when he came into contact with Emma's side. Before he could move away and utter an apology, Emma turned so he was leaning against her chest instead of the edge of her shoulder.

"It's okay," she whispered, scared voicing the allowance any louder would break the spell and show her what she was actually doing. Show him the truth of her.

"Thanks," Killian whispered back, voice hoarse, leaning a bit more heavily against her. It took all of Emma's willpower not to think about how he was leaning against her breasts, her unpadded bra doing little to protect her. Killian seemed too sick to notice though and for that she was infinitely grateful.

"I feel terrible," Killian moaned quietly. Emma could feel the tremors racking his body as his hot skin pressed against hers. It was coming on to about 18 hours of the alcohol withdrawal and it seemed like the symptoms were starting to ratchet up. And they still hadn't reached the time period of delirium tremens yet. Emma stomped down the fear and reached around Killian to give his arm a rub that she hoped was more soothing than abrasive.

"I know. I wish there was more I could do. It's really hard to watch you go through this." The truth was sharp in her ears despite the low volume of her voice.

Killian was silent for a few moments, drawing in shallow but measured breaths to quell the nausea. "Can you tell me a story? Something to distract me?" When Emma hesitated for a moment, thinking about what she could tell him, Killian jumped in again. "It doesn't have to be about you."

"Okay."

Before Emma could start, or even think about what to say, Killian stiffened. "Hold onto that thought, lass." The next moment Killian was gagging and heaving again as his body rebelled against the lack of alcohol in his system. Emma tried not to cringe at the noise as she tried to figure out what to do. It wasn't like she could hold his hair back like he was some sorority girl who'd had too much jungle juice. She decided on patting his back, rubbing slow circles against his skin, the damp t-shirt he wore moving under her palm. Emma concentrated on the way Killian was trembling under her hand instead of thinking about the way that even in such a situation there were still shocks going up her arm at the contact.

Killian finished, and flushed, slumping forward until his elbows caught on his knees. "Sorry."

Emma gave him a final pat on the back before standing. "Don't be sorry," she admonished. "I'll be right back."

Emma hurried out of the bathroom and into the kitchen, breathing a sigh of relief at the space she'd just put between them. It wasn't that she hated it or Killian made her uncomfortable and that was exactly the problem. The problem was that she didn't mind sitting there because unlike the drunks she had to deal with at work this was Killian and Killian- well, against her better judgement she felt things for.

Emma rushed to grab the bottle of anti-nausea medicine from the small cabinet at the edge of her kitchen then a Powerade from the fridge since she was pretty sure that in his state Killian wasn't going to want to drink liquefied kale. She grabbed a dishcloth from a drawer and soaked it with cold water from the sink. Juggling all the things in her hands she hurried back to the bathroom, Killian still in the same place.

Without thinking too hard she settled back in the same place she had recently abandoned. It just felt like the right thing to do. Killian leaned back against her with a quiet relieved sigh, as if that was also automatic.

"Here," Emma said as she reached around Killian, first offering the pills and Powerade. "This should help calm your stomach."

"Thanks," Killian opened the bottle and downed the medicine. Emma took the pill canister back, leaving him with the juice. "Will you still tell me a story as I wait to see if that stays down." Killian sounded tentative, as if he wouldn't allow himself to hope for the request to be fulfilled since she'd gone and given him the medicine. As if she could only give one kindness at a time.

That was painful to hear. Emma knew she was hard to get along with. That she ran away whenever things got too personal. Emma didn't want to be like that. It was exhausting. She didn't want people to think she was a shitty person. She'd just spent so much of her life fighting. So much of her life trying to keep herself safe. There were so many times that only her walls had saved her from the harsh realities of her world. She was terrified to stop fighting. What that would mean for her. But maybe she could let just a little bit of herself out.

"My partner's name is David. You met him on the boat." Emma let out an uncomfortable laugh at the thought of the night she arrested Killian, but pushed on. "But you didn't meet his wife. She's something else. I kind of hated her at the start. I knew David first. Because we were assigned as partners as soon as I arrived at the Boston PD. David kept pushing me to come to dinner with him and his wife and I kept saying no. I don't like letting people into my life." Another harsh laugh, but this time at herself and how even more fucked up she'd been years ago. "David and his wife are like Prince Charming and Snow White. They're pretty much perfect. It's kind of sickening. I'd only met David at the time and even then I knew I wasn't going to be able to handle some Disney princess wannabe who spent her days singing to birds and baking pies. So I kept making up excuses. Towards the end of it my excuses were getting pretty shitty." Killian gave a quiet huff of the laugh, as if he could totally see her doing it and then gave a little groan as if the jerking movement had stirred his stomach the wrong way. Emma started her story up again quickly to keep him distracted. "So anyways, about four months after I started working with David, this tiny woman comes marching into the office. She marched right up to me and demanded why I wouldn't come to her house for supper. I had no fucking clue who the woman was but she was actually scary. I thought I was going to have to arrest her. She started demanding what kind of impression of her, her husband had made on me. And then David came running into the office and I realized that this was Mary Margaret and my opinions on her were wrong. I mean she's still a Disney princess but she's not nauseating like I thought she was. She's actually pretty great." Emma let her voice trail off, smiling to herself. Mary Margaret was pretty much the only woman friend she'd ever had. But that was enough. That woman was a powerhouse.

"Thank you for sharing," Killian said after a few moments, voice sounding dozy as his head lolled back against her shoulder. It seemed that the medicine with it's drowsy side effects were starting to take effect. His eyelids were heavy as he glanced up at her through eyelashes Emma was pretty sure people would kill for.

"You feeling any better?"

"Yeah. Well, I no longer feel like my stomach lining's trying to escape through my mouth."

Emma snorted. "I guess that's an improvement. Can you get up?" she asked. "You would probably be more comfortable off this floor."

"If it wouldn't upset you, I'd say I'm pretty comfortable here with you," Killian murmured. "But I guess the couch would be pretty good."

Emma forced herself to stay calm at Killian's words. Because she was actually more comfortable than she would have ever expected with Killian resting against her. He was warm and solid, even if he was shaking. There was a calmness about having him against her that assuaged some of the worry she felt about the situation they were in. But she wasn't ready to voice that. Instead she just nodded with a slight smile, knowing Killian was still watching her.

Killian gave her a long look, as if he were trying to read her, judge to see if she was preparing to run. Eventually he decided that if she was going to run, she wouldn't go far, and he pushed himself up with a long groan. Emma caught his elbow to steady him. If there was any other ulterior motive to keep contact with the man longer, well, she wasn't thinking about it.

Emma led Killian back to the couch, pulling the blanket up over him. She reached over and turned on Netflix before handing him the remote. "I'll make some dinner okay? Something mild."

"But full of vegetables?" Killian mumbled back, eyes already closing.

"At least they'll be solid." Killian was asleep before Emma's reply was all the way out of her mouth.


	11. Anger

_A/N:_ This chapter's a bit intense. I know Killian's acting like an asshole in it but remember- withdrawal isn't pretty, there's anger and mood swings and addiction to contend with. Killian also does have a temper so withdrawal is exacerbating that. Also, there's some hallucinating in this so if that's an issue for you, please don't read it, you'll understand the chapter enough with the next one as it picks up right away. Thanks so much for all the support on this. You're all amazing! Let me know what you think! Enjoy!

Warning: This chapter contains mentions of alcohol abuse, verbal abuse and hallucinations.

Disclaimer: All aspects of Once Upon A Time belong to ABC and the show's creators.

Hours passed by in a blur. That medicine Emma had given him knocked him out. Killian roused long enough for Emma to force some sort of salad down his throat, the buttery avocado making his stomach churn. But Emma insisted the veggies in it all were supposed to do something for him so he complied. As soon as he made her promise to eat it as well. Once his bowl was empty Killian's eyes fell closed again.

Killian had thought the first day of detoxing was bad. With the anxiety. And the nausea. The vomiting and the shaking. The exhaustion that sleep couldn't slake. The _need_ for alcohol that sent him spiraling into a panic attack when he tried to fight the desire. Having Emma next to him had been calming, reassuring that he'd make it through the process, reaffirming why he wanted to be sober in the first place.

But the second day. The second day was a whole other beast. The second day was anger. Absolute rage. Fire burning through his veins. Frustration. An all consuming desire for rum. There was nothing left inside of him. It was scorching from the inside out as the flames licked and clawed for drops of alcohol.

From the minute Killian pried open eyes crusty from sleep he felt consumed. An anger he hadn't felt since Milah's departure and Liam's unfair death. It made him short and petulant with Emma, demanding Powerade instead of her stupid liquid gardens that she kept pressing on him for breakfast and turning his nose up at the eggs. Every one of her footsteps was like a jackhammer to his brain. How could such a skinny woman be so bloody lead footed? The scrape of her spoon in her yogurt bowl grated on his last nerve and had him demanding she throw the bloody utensils in the sink before his ear drum exploded.

Part of Killian recognized that he was being a complete and total douche. Part of him felt a twinge when he saw Emma cringe or visibly deflate at his harsh words. Part of him recognized that he was overreacting. The other part of him couldn't stop. But she never backed down. She never gave in when he refused her sandwich, instead standing over him and glaring until he ate half of it. She watched him like a hawk, ready to intercede whenever he got a look in his eye that said he was about to try and do something to impede his healing process. She forced him to shower and change, holding the door closed until he actually got into the shower. Everything she did was to follow the recovery plan she had in her head. And it made him so _angry._

Killian Jones didn't get bossed around by some middle class cop who liked to play doctor.

Killian _fucking_ Jones was used to getting exactly what he wanted. And he fucking wanted alcohol.

Rum. Neat. Skip the glass. Keep the bottle cap.

 _Bad form brother._

Killian whipped his head around before he could stop himself, searching for the broad shoulders and curly hair of his brother. But there was no man in the apartment other than the shell of one he currently was. The only other person in the place was Emma, studiously keeping her back to him as she typed away on the computer, clearly offended by whatever thing he'd said last. She probably deserved it with her hippy rabbit food and stink eye scowl.

 _Show some respect to the good lady._

Again Killian found himself looking around the room like a man possessed. That was his brother's voice. It was real. That was the same tone he'd use just before he slapped Killian upside the head for not properly thanking a cashier or bumping into a woman on the street without apologizing. It was the words he'd forgotten but hearing them again there was no denying- that was Liam.

But his brother was dead. Killian had watched the coffin lower into the ground. Gone. Forever.

Killian yanked at his hair. Fuck. Why was he hearing his brother's voice? The one he'd turned to rum to forget in the first place? Forgetting Liam's lilt and pleasant voice had been one of the most shameful things he'd done and now that it was back he couldn't face it. The sound ripped through his chest with a fiercer burn than the one the lack of alcohol had caused.

Rum. That had to be it. Liam's voice was back because Killian was no longer drinking it away. Killian needed rum. Liam's voice needed to go away again. Before it started to tell him how ashamed he was of his little brother. Before Liam started saying all the things Killian knew to be true but was too scared to hear his idol, his hero, put into words.

"Rum. I need rum," Killian demanded, springing to his feet.

 _Surely I taught you to behave better?_

Fuck. That voice needed to go. Liam was dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. _Dead._ Not in this cramped shoebox of an apartment with him and Emma who was currently looking at him with a look that was all confusion and shock.

"What?" she asked slowly, sliding from her seat at the counter so she could see him better, hands coming to rest on her hips.

"Rum. Alcohol. I need it."

"Absolutely not," Emma answered with a shake of her head, voice firm.

Killian let out a stream of curses. Why was she being so bloody obstinate? Killian wanted rum. All she needed to do was give it to him. Or let him out of this bloody cage so he could go find a bar and drown all sounds in peace.

 _Becoming sober would be a hero's quest, little brother. Glory for the Jones brothers once again._

But there could be no glory for the Jones brothers. Not when one of them had turned to ash and dust and the other was just waiting to drown in fermented grain. Not when the weaker, the less noble of the two of them was the one left alive. The one who'd purposely tried to forget the memory of the other because it just hurt _too damn much._

"Fuck it all, Emma. Give me some rum." Killian's voice had raised to a yell and Emma's face blanched. But only for a moment.

She moved grabbed the untouched glass of water sitting on the counter beside her, firming up her expression and straightening her shoulders. Emma marched towards him, holding out the glass. "Killian, you've come too far to blow it now. I'm not giving you rum."

Why was she so bloody stubborn? Why couldn't she just _understand_? Why did she have to be stronger than him?

 _Listen to the lass, brother. She knows what she's talking about._

"Shut the fuck up," Killian screamed, hands going to his hair again, searching around the room as he tugged. Those were words he would never say to his brother before. But now- now he just needed the voice to go away.

Emma cocked her head, studying him for a moment before her eyes widened in recognition. "Are you hallucinating?"

"No, I'm not bloody seeing things. I'm hearing my dead brother." Killian's voice was still raised, probably loud enough for the neighbours to hear but he didn't really care.

"That's a type hallucination," Emma replied calmly, seeming to get a handle on the situation.

"I don't bloody well care what it is. It needs to fucking _stop._ And the only way it stopped before was rum."

"And it will stop again. This is a stage in the withdrawal. Here, you need to stay hydrated." She pressed the glass into Killian's hand with a firm glare.

"You don't fucking get it do you?" Killian yelled, Emma barely flinching. "You're a fucking orphan aren't you?" Emma's eyes widened and that was all the confirmation he needed. "Yeah, I figured it out. Got that lonely look in your eye." Emma's face paled now. A slight tremor started in her fingers but she didn't back down. Killian knew he could make her back down. Make her give in. "You don't know what family is. You wouldn't know what it was like if it bit you on that lovely ass of yours. So why don't you stop pretending like you know what it's like to lose someone you love and give me the fucking rum." To punctuate his words he threw the glass past her, smashing it into the wall.

Emma didn't even jump as the glass rained to the floor. She didn't turn to see water pooling across the laminate flooring. She just stood in front of him, seething with anger.

"You think I don't know what it's like to lose someone, you selfish bastard?" Emma's voice was a harsh hiss. "Well I'm not such an open book to you then because guess what? I do. The only guy I've ever been with, ever fucking loved, set me up to take the fall for his crime. Didn't work. I found out first. Made an anonymous tip and the cops found him. The day after he got out of jail the drug lord he'd ratted on to get put in minimum found him. Killed him. Left him in an ally. And that file- yeah, it ended up on my desk to investigate. So yeah," Emma continued, screaming now as the emotion started to get the better of her, "yeah, I know what it's like to lose someone you love. At least you aren't the reason your brother is dead. If I'd never got Neal sent to jail he never would have ratted. I could have just run instead. But I got pissed that one more person who was supposed to care for me was going to set me up. And now it's my fault Neal's dead. I even had to investigate the fucking crime scene and pretend nothing was wrong as I watched them wipe up the blood." Emma's voice broke on the man's name but she didn't give in. She stood strong, lip quivering, eyes bright with tears but staring him down none the less.

That broke something in Killian's anger. That strong, beautiful woman had just listened to him verbally attack her and had never backed down because she knew he needed to get sober, to save himself. And then he'd pulled out the dirty moves and made her spill a painful memory. All this the day after he'd tried to convince Emma he was different than the persona. Killian felt like an asshole.

Killian's knees gave out from under him and he slipped to the floor, the weight of guilt pushing him down. Emma didn't even look at him. The only blessing in the whole situation was that the situation seemed to force Liam's voice back into the locked up memory box of his mind.

"I'm going to call a doctor. You need to see someone about these symptoms." With that she walked into her bedroom and slammed the door.

Even after everything he'd put her through that day she still cared about making sure he would get better. She'd stood up to him through the day when he had tried demanding her around like a servant, unable to stop himself whenever he felt that tinge of remorse for behaving in such a way. Emma had not backed down when she'd figured out Killian was hallucinating, screaming at the walls to shut up. She'd stayed calm, insisting he drink water to help stay hydrated and flush his system instead of running to heed his order. And then he'd broken that mask she wore, made her pour out what was probably one of her darkest secrets while he glared at her.

Of course Emma knew what it was like to lose people. Killian had guessed that. Had guessed that she'd spent her whole life losing things- people, places, connections. And yet he'd still screamed at her that she didn't know what family was. Or love. Of all the fights he could have picked with Emma Swan he'd probably picked the worst. But because she was strong, far stronger than he was, she was doing all in her power to ensure Killian didn't lose anything more.

Asshole.

Git.

Bastard.

Any one of those titles would be a great descriptor for him. Killian didn't even need to hear Liam's voice to know that he'd reached the point where Liam would be ashamed of him. That line had been passed ten minutes ago when Killian had made the choice to be a monster to someone who'd been nothing less than a saviour to him. Killian slid his knees up to his chest, dropping his head to the tops of his knees, feeling the wired emotions that had been running through him burst forth.

Shutting his eyes, Killian started to cry. Tears falling for the first time since Liam's funeral.

For everything he'd lost.

For the woman who may have lost more.

For what he'd let himself become that afternoon.

For what that meant for the two of them now.

Lost. Any chance at having Emma feel anything more for him than a mild friendship was lost.

Asshole. Git. Bastard. All of the above.

The door to the bedroom opened again and soft feet padded out in the direction Killian had thrown the glass. There was the tinkling of shards as Emma picked up the mess, a quiet and shaky curse as she stabbed herself with a piece and then the sweeping sound of a towel being swept across the puddle. Killian didn't look up, too ashamed to face Emma after what he'd said, especially since he was the one crying.

A mess. That was another title to add to the list of names for him.

After the noise of Emma cleaning up the mess stopped, quiet feet padded back to her bedroom. Once again she'd left him alone. Emma didn't come out or make a sound at all until there was a soft knock on the apartment door. Killian stiffened but didn't move as Emma hurried to the door.

"Hi Victor," she greeted in a hushed voice. Even thirty minutes after their fight it still sounded like she was battling with emotion. Killian's stomach twisted. "Thanks so much for coming. Come in."

"No problem, Emma. I'm glad you called." Booted steps entered the apartment, louder than Emma's sock feet. "I assume this is my patient?" Killian knew the doctor was looking at him but he didn't move from his curled up position.

"Yeah. Killian Jones. I'm going to go to the store. I'll be back in a while."

Before Killian could even think about saying anything to Emma, apologize, promise to leave, whatever she wanted, the apartment door opened and shut, leaving Killian alone with the doctor he had yet to look at.

"Okay," Victor started, voice measured, as if he were holding back irritation. "I'm here because Emma called me. I don't care who you are. But I do care that you've obviously hurt her. So I'm going to be your doctor first then we're going to have a chat since David isn't here to do that part for me. Got it?"

"Got it," Killian murmured, voice muffled by the now damp knees of his sweatpants.

"Good. Now look at me so we can have a chat about this situation you've found yourself in Mr. Jones."

With a sigh Killian looked up, eyes blurry from tears, to study the doctor. Victor wasn't overly tall despite trying to stand in an intimidating way. Blond hair was clipped close to his head and his blue eyes were sharp, clearly examining Killian while somehow still managing to seem uninterested. The doctor wore blue scrubs that were rumpled as if he'd just gotten off work- or left it early- when Emma called. How did Emma know the man? Were they exes? Just friends? Why did he think he still had the right to care about that after what he did to Emma?

"Stand up for me," Victor instructed. Killian did as he was bid, no fight left in him to remain on the floor, swiping his arm across his face to gather any residual wetness. Once up he wobbled a bit on shaky legs, the tremors made worse from the crashing adrenaline. "Raise an arm for me?" Victor examined the way his arm was moving. "A bit shaky aren't you?"

"Nah, just channeling my inner Chihuahua as practice for my next music video."

Victor rolled his eyes, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out a stethoscope. "Put the arm down. So, how long have you been abusing alcohol?" Victor motioned for Killian to sit and the doctor followed, putting the stethoscope around his neck.

"Heavily a bit over two years." Killian didn't look at the doctor as he said it, instead watching the way his hand was shaking. It seemed like he'd been in this pit for so much longer.

"Well I've seen much worse in the form of detoxes, so you've got that going for you." Victor put the stethoscope into his ears and lifted the disk to Killian's chest. Killian tried his best to stay still as the doctor moved the disk around his chest and back, trying not to think about how the disk was actually warm because it was kept in his scrub's butt pocket. Victor pulled the stethoscope out of his ears, leaving it to hang around his neck. "Heart rate's a bit elevated. Emma said you had a panic attack yesterday and it seemed like your heart was giving you trouble?" How much had Emma told the doctor? How did she tell the doctor? Angrily? Clinically? Worried? How ever Emma had reported the events of the last few days, it meant he couldn't lie without being caught.

"A bit. It started racing."

"That's common. Okay, what about other symptoms?"

"Hasn't Emma told you everything already?" Killian answered somewhat petulantly, feeling rather exhausted. Why force him to repeat everything when the doctor already knew?

Victor's expression hardened. "We'll talk about Emma in a bit. For now, you're going to talk to me about your symptoms."

Killian heaved a sigh. "Nausea. Vomiting though that seems like it's gone now. Exhaustion but I can't sleep very well. I'm shaky. Mood swings as I'm sure you're aware."

Victor took a moment to process it all. "Typical withdrawal symptoms, pretty much following the timeline though your mood swings are a bit earlier on than normal. Maybe you're going to have a shorter withdrawal period or maybe you're just a bit of an ass?"

Killian snorted, taken aback. "Real professional, doc." Victor just shrugged.

What followed was a half an hour of Victor doing strange little tests like squeezing his skin and asking questions and Killian answering them, agitation growing. Emma still hadn't come back. Victor still hadn't started whatever spiel he had planned for after the doctor hat came off. What if that conversation was going to end with Victor kicking Killian out of Emma's place? What if that was why she hadn't come back yet? By the end of Victor's questions Killian was back to feeling like a discombobulated mess.

"Okay, so it seems like Emma's been doing a good job taking care of you. You're in pretty good shape."

"Aye, she has," Killian acknowledged, bowing his head in shame. Everything over the last few days had been to get him better and with one wicked mood swing he had ruined everything.

"Yeah, well, there's some stuff I can do to help her out."

"She's coming back?" Killian let the question slip before he could stop it. Victor narrowed his eyes at him, considering Killian's clear anxiety surrounding his friend.

"You're lucky she's a good person used to dealing with shitty situations."

"She shouldn't have to."

"Life isn't fair. But anyways, back to you. I'm going to prescribe you some Xanax. Just a small dose because you're not really being monitored by a medical professional and you're doing pretty good, all things considered. One milligram should lessen the chance for dependence, lessen the chance of paradoxical reactions and make it easier to come off it next week. It will act as a mild sedative, should help with the anxiety and mood swings and the restless sleeping. I'd highly suggest that after you come off it that you go on an SSRI for anxiety and depression and see a specialist to work through the issues that caused you to start drinking so you don't start drinking again. I can prescribe the medication to you but not do the therapy. I also want you to start taking a multivitamin to help get your body back in running order." Killian nodded, taking it all in. Not that he was big on the idea of starting a new medication but if it would make him feel more human and less likely to lash out at the one person who deserved it the least then he would do it. "I'm going to go call the pharmacy down the road and give them the prescription then I'll see if Emma can get it for you. Once I've done that, I'll be back for our chat."

Ten minutes later Victor returned from his calls in the hallway. "Emma's going to get your prescription and then she'll be back in about an hour." Kilian just nodded, waiting for the onslaught. Victor seemed to realize this, sighing and coming to stand in front of Killian, the coffee table separating them.

"Look, Killian, I probably shouldn't be the one doing this. It should be David. Emma and I are pretty much just good acquaintances. I was honestly so surprised to see her name on my phone today. I'm actually friends with her partner and his wife. But she hasn't told any of them about you and you treated her like shit today which means it's my job now. I don't know what you said to Emma today. I just know that I've never heard her like that before when I picked up the phone." Killian long enough to know some. And you treating her like that after everything she's done for you? _Despicable._ " Victor spat the word at him.

"I know. I feel like the biggest git ever. Upsetting Emma was the last thing I ever wanted to do. I'd rather die than hurt that wonderful woman. I couldn't stop the anger and she was the closest target. And now I'm never going to be able to convince her that I can be a good person."

Victor cocked his head at Killian, listening to the emotional way the words came out. "You like her."

Killian's eyes widened as heat crawled up his face. _Caught._ "Doesn't matter now. I fucked everything up."

Victor gave a sigh, dropping his arms from where they had been crossed over his chest. The man seemed a lot less intimidating that way. "Emma's obviously done a lot of research about alcohol withdrawal. Yeah, you were a shitty person today. But she knows about the mood swings and the hallucinations. I expect she has an idea why you behaved the way you did. I also suspect that she understands that people make mistakes and say things they shouldn't. Now, I'm not saying she's going to forgive you or that she's interested in you back. But, I'm also not saying that she's not going to because I've never seen her do something before like she's doing with you. Make it up to her. Emma will make her choice."

With that Victor turned and left the apartment without another word, leaving Killian sitting stunned on the sofa. There was no other option than to try and make it up to Emma. Because as Victor had guessed, he did feel things for the beautiful woman. Killian doubted she would forgive him or trust him again let alone care for him. But maybe he could do something to make her feel better. A peace offering.

It was getting late in the evening, far enough from the half a sandwich Killian had had earlier that even his stomach was growling. Emma probably had had grand plans to make him some sort of hippie food before everything went to hell and she took off. The last thing she probably wanted was to come home to his sorry ass and have to make food.

Food. It was a good place to start. Killian could do that. With the shaking and exhaustion, making something homemade was pretty much impossible. But there was a GrubHub app on his phone. Killian grabbed his phone, pulling up the app, and then slowly typed in healthy to the search bar. It was a quick process to select the highest rated restaurant that was close to Emma's apartment so the food would get to the building before she did. Killian quickly scanned the menu, searching for the food that seemed the most like something Emma would serve him. He selected two different wraps, one full of guacamole and other green things and the other one made with chipotle chicken. A Caesar salad, hummus with pita and two different types of smoothies also went with the order. It was probably too much food since he was hungry, not ravenous, but Killian didn't really know what Emma liked and wanted to meet her standards.

With the order placed and a very tentative seed of hope nestling in his chest, right beside his rapidly beating heart, Killian slipped into the bathroom. Emma would return to food and a clean person. Maybe the shower would even calm him down enough that he could shave afterwards as well without slicing open his carotid artery. Or that might accidently happen and Emma wouldn't have to make a choice about forgiving him. Either way, only time would tell.


	12. Pretending

_A/N:_ Thank you so much for your support of this story! It's really blowing me away! I hope this chapter lives up to expectations and conveys just how confused Emma feels. Let me know what you think! Enjoy!

Warning: This chapter contains mentions of alcohol abuse.

Disclaimer: All aspects of Once Upon A Time belong to ABC and the show's creators.

Emma trudged up the apartment stairs, a pharmacy bag hanging from her wrist. She was exhausted from the emotional toll of the day. Emma was used to belligerent and angry people. It was just part of the job. But hearing Killian say those things to her- it stung more than anyone else who'd ever insulted her.

Feelings. They made everything shittier.

It was hard to remember that the mood swings were out of Killian's control. She'd known he was having an angry day that morning when he'd started being bossy and not agreeable like he usually was but had just assumed that it was going to pass eventually. She should have braced herself for something to happen. The man had been without his crutch for nearly two days. Something was bound to happen. With Emma the only person around she was like a walking bullseye. She knew all this. Victor told her this.

Didn't make her feel any better.

The attack on her had been so personal. She hadn't lost people? That was the stupidest thing she'd ever heard someone say about her. An orphan was pretty much the poster child for personal losses. Of course she hadn't yelled back about that. That wound was healed over- just sore to the touch. The one with Neal was festering and infected so it had opened easier, exploding outwards. It had only been a year since the man's murder. Emma had never had closure back when she was seventeen, just been angry, and then the day the file had gone over her desk had been the day it felt like her world was once again collapsing in on itself. David had immediately known something was wrong. Especially since Emma had had to leave the crime scene early which she never, _ever_ did. That night she'd admitted it all to David and his wife, begging him not to report her and let her stay on the investigation. She just needed to find the man who murdered Neal. Felt a personal responsibility for it. The man was caught but mistakes were made. Emma got too emotionally involved. Crossed one too many lines. Broke down after the arrest. Her superiors gave her an option- desk duty for an indeterminate amount of time while they investigated her internally or leave the department. Emma had chosen to leave, go to patrol. David had surprised her and transferred as well, giving up the job he'd always wanted to stay with her because he said their partnership was more important. Emma still hadn't forgiven herself for that, still felt crushing guilt that David had given up her job for him, but the guilt and emotions had been lessening. Until Killian brought it all to the surface again.

Emma wasn't sure how to handle Killian now. Did she say something about what he'd done or just try to forget it? Victor had prescribed the man medication so the mood swings and other symptoms would lessen, essentially mildly sedating him for the next few days.

Objectively, Emma knew the mood swings and the anger were part of the detox process. That Killian was going through more than she could even imagine and it was bound to boil over eventually. Objectively she knew it wasn't her fault. Emma had taken on the role of nurse without a second thought. She'd signed up for it. If anything, it was her fault that she'd gotten so upset. Forgotten her training and skills at compartmentalizing.

Subjectively, it fucking hurt. It just stung because the day before Killian had tried to convince her he was a good person. And she believed him.

 _Most_ of her still believed him. But that part that didn't trust, that didn't give in and ran until her legs gave out? That part wanted Killian out of her life. That part felt lied to and betrayed, harkening back to the day Neal had decided to blame her for stealing a bunch of watches that he was using to cover the price of drugs he had lost. Emma was tired of that, of hurting. She just wanted life to be kind to her for a while.

Emma's stomach growled as she let herself into the apartment. It was pushing seven now and lunch seemed ages away. She just wanted to go heat up some Mr. Noodles and go to bed in the hope that tomorrow was better. But despite her complicated feelings towards Killian she was still responsible to make sure he recovered properly and noodles made of salt and lonely tears weren't going to cut it.

As soon as she entered the apartment she was greeted with the scent of food- certainly not something that had been there before. Whatever it was, it smelled good. Had Victor had something sent over for her? Emma kicked off her shoes and went around the little entrance hallway, stopping in shock.

On the counter sat two brown bags stapled at the top and two clear plastic to-go cups that looked like they were full of smoothies, one yellow, the other a bright purple colour. Sitting beside the food on the stool was Killian. Wet hair was brushed back from a face and it took Emma a few moments to figure out why the handsome face didn't look right. The man had shaved. Properly. No longer was there the full blown, ratty beard that Killian had been sporting since she arrived on The Jolly Roger two days prior. The clean face made him look younger, less tortured, a bit more put together despite the still dark circles under his eyes and the pale colour of his skin. Killian looked good. Like very good.

 _Fuck, Emma. Get yourself together._

"I got supper for us," Killian said sheepishly, pushing one of the bags closer to her while he watched her face closely. "Uh, it's healthy. I looked it up to make sure you'd approve. All gluten and fun free."

Emma didn't know what to do. This certainly wasn't what she'd been expecting. She'd been expecting Killian to still be angry, been ready to fight again and then slink off to bed. Part of her had wanted that so she could hit back and relive some of the frustrations and hurt of the day. She hadn't expected his mood to swing again back to normal and for him to put any effort into helping her out or cleaning himself up. She hadn't expected him to care.

Emma's own emotions were going haywire because the only thing she could think to do was laugh- a slightly hysterical one. Or cry- but she'd already done enough of that since the fight to last her a lifetime. Things were swinging from one extreme to another and Emma just wanted to know what to think about the situation. But in this case she had no fucking clue what was going on. Killian gave her a hopeful look at the sound coming from her, one she tried not to read too much into. This was just a peace offering, an apology. There was nothing more behind the actions than that and she shouldn't be hoping that there was.

When Emma got herself back under control she held up the bag she carried. "I got what Victor prescribed you."

"Thank you, lass." Killian paused for a moment, combing a hand through his wet strands. "Look, Emma-"

Emma held her hand up. "Don't." She didn't want him to say anything about what she'd revealed, say Neal's name out loud. She wasn't sure why but she was certain she couldn't handle hearing her ex's name come out of Killian's mouth at that point.

Killian sighed, pushing on anyways with an exhausted but rugged determination. "Emma, yesterday I told you I wanted to be a gentleman, that you were safe around me. Today I made a liar out of myself. I'm so sorry. I feel like all I've been doing has been apologizing to you and I just want to stop having to do that." Killian paused for a moment, measuring his next words. "I want to be the man that makes you laugh and smile and feel comforted. I want to make you proud. I don't want to be the one who dredges up bad memories and makes you cry and breaks your glasses."

Why was he saying this? He wanted to be a good man for her? She was just supposed to be a means to an end, a place to dry out. Nothing more. Did he actually feel something more for her? How was she supposed to keep up with this.

"Apologizing's not all you do. You also vomit a lot." Emma didn't know what else to say. She groaned when the words were out, her face heating up with embarrassment. _Why was she so bad at this kind of thing?_

Now it was Killian's turn to laugh. "Ah, yes, vomiting. My finest skill."

They stared at each other, the silence awkward. Emma didn't do feelings well. She wasn't really sure what Killian was trying to tell her. And she was terrified to be wrong. Did he want her to make the next move? Say that even after everything that day, after the fight and the words, that she still felt something for him? Something that there was no way she could actually have? Emma was pretty sure she was just reading too far into the situation because she wanted Killian to be interested in her. There really couldn't be anything more in Killian's words than a desire to be friends.

"So, what did you get?" she asked instead of pressing Killian for the truth, reaching for the bag.

Killian seemed to catch onto what she was doing if his sigh was any indication. Did he actually want Emma to say anything about whatever was going on between them? "Two different wraps, salad, pita with hummus and smoothies. I thought we could split the wraps?"

Emma nodded. She was too tired and hungry not to take the peace offering. "Sounds good." She reached into the first bag while Killian dug into the other. Between the two of them they laid out all the food on the counter. Emma grabbed plates and utensils while Killian divided the two wraps.

Tension still hung between them. Heavy and oppressive with things unsaid. But Emma had no idea what to do to fix it. She didn't do relationships. She was shitty at them. Neal had been the only man she'd ever been involved with and that ended about as well mixing up lube and hot sauce by mistake. Actually, much worse because it was her heart involved instead of her vagina.

"Would you like to watch a movie tonight?" Killian asked when they'd gotten their plates piled high. Emma had claimed the blueberry lemon smoothie, leaving the banana colada one for Killian. Emma opened the pill bottle she'd just picked up, offering a capsule to Killian to stall. Watching a movie together after getting treated to takeout. That was very date-y. Right?

"You gonna be able to stay up until the end?" Most of her was wishing he would say no and she could use that as an excuse not to sit on the couch with him. _Most._

"Of course," Killian responded with a grin, downing his medication with a slurp of smoothie and making a face afterwards when it gave him brain freeze.

Emma had to laugh at that, a high pitched giggle driven by exhaustion and emotional strain. It was just the way his face scrunched up around his eyes and his lips peeled back over strong white teeth. Once again Emma was struck by how handsome Killian was. She sighed, frustrated at the want coursing through her. Maybe, just for tonight they could sit on the couch and watch movies. Maybe, just for tonight she could pretend that anything more than friendship was possible.

"Okay then. Pick a movie that makes you feel good and we'll watch that." Emma dropped down onto the couch, kicking her feet up onto the coffee table and leaning against the arm. By making sure she was seated first it would be up to Killian to decide how close he wanted to sit. If he wanted to pretend too.

"I know just the film," he replied, blue eyes examining the sofa for a moment. It was obvious that his thoughts had gone in the same direction hers had. Emma held her breath as Killian stepped over her legs and settled beside her, about half a foot away. Close but not touching. Not near the end of the other side of the sofa. Personal space encroaching. Date like.

Emma huffed out her breath before taking a huge bite of her wrap, a piece of lettuce hanging from her lips. Unfortunately, she wasn't able to slurp that back before Killian noticed, laughing at how her face went red.

"Remind me to take you to a fancy dinner sometime," he laughed as he scrolled through the Netflix queue. Wait. Fancy dinner? Was that a joke or a subtle ask? Emma groaned internally. Now that her thoughts were on the path she couldn't stop seeing relationship potentials everywhere. Or the quick flash of fear that each mention caused. She needed to get her shit together before she did something stupid like actually start believing something would happen between them. She was Emma Swan. She didn't get all dopy around a man.

"There!" Killian exclaimed, deciding on a movie. Emma turned her attention from her plate to the television. Peter Pan was ready to play, paused on the opening scene.

"Interesting choice, Jones."

Killian shrugged. "I used to watch this all the time as a child with my brother. Liam found the movie at a yard sale for fifty pence. Was the only one we had for a while that actually worked because Da kept recording over everything we had to be able to watch his footy after work. Liam protected this one though, kept it in his room. I haven't seen the film in years but when you said to pick one that made me feel good, well, I couldn't think of anything else."

Emma knew Killian was trusting her with a piece of information about his childhood. A clue to how he had grown up. The truth of it, no lie detectable, took Emma aback. It honestly didn't sound far off the experiences Emma had had in some of her foster homes growing up. That recognition that had flared so many times since meeting Killian, the one that said there was a kinship there, buried beneath brick walls and moats full of emotion hunting crocodiles and rich cars and celebrity attitudes, rose up again, so strong that Emma herself felt compelled to reply with a small piece of her own puzzle.

"Mine was The Princess Bride," she started, eyes trained hard at the movie picture on the screen, partially wishing she could fly away to Neverland and take back the personal words. She pushed on though. Emma was braver than this. "Pretty much every half decent foster home had it. I watched it so much. I used to wish Dread Pirate Roberts would show up and take me away from everything that hurt."

Killian was silent for a moment, taking in the information. "You know; I am a pirate."

Emma stilled. Those words. A reference to his old band but also to her desire to have someone save her and love her. This time she knew there was no way she was reading into the situation. Her walls slammed up before she could even decide if she wanted them to.

"You _used_ to be a pirate," Emma whispered back, a hint of longing colouring her voice, seeping through her protective emotional brick and mortar work.

Killian nodded, understanding where she stood. "Maybe someday I'll get back to that?"

"Maybe."

No more words were said. There really wasn't anything more to say. Emma could have responded differently, been less of a coward, believed that Killian could have actually wanted her. Killian could have pushed harder, tried better to convince her of his feelings, seen how scared she was of being wrong about a man again and worked to reassure her. But none of that happened. Instead, Killian turned on the movie and the two of them ate their dinners, watching the Lost Boys creep around the forests of Neverland and Tinkerbelle give attitude to everyone.

About a half an hour before the end of the movie, the sky fully dark outside the window, Killian fell asleep, slumping down in the cushions. Emma didn't even realize Killian wasn't still watching the movie until he slid sideways, snoring lightly, head coming to rest on her shoulder. It took all Emma's control not to jump out of her skin when it happened but she didn't push him off. Not when he was warm and smelled of aftershave and a bit of her own soap. Not when his dark hair tickled her cheek and his breath puffed out against her collarbone.

Not when for one night she could pretend it all was real. Give into those instincts and desires that she had long buried.

Emma stayed next to Killian until it was midnight and she was falling asleep herself. As much as she wanted to, she couldn't stay with Killian through the night, not when morning light would most likely bring harsh realities and regrets for the musician. She just wouldn't have been able to stand the resulting look in his too blue eyes. Or be strong enough to resist the urge to run, far and fast, if that regret wasn't there. So, drawing in one final deep breath of the man, she slipped out from under him, lowering his body slowly down onto the sofa so he wouldn't wake. She covered his legs with the blanket, shut off the TV and slipped into her own room, her arm still warm from where they had been pressed together.

Tucking herself into bed, for the first time in over a year, Emma found herself sad the night had ended instead of praying for morning light to come and chase away the demons. Killian Jones was changing her life and the day he walked out of it was going to break her, no matter what she did to try and stop it.


	13. The Manager

_A/N:_ And now we meet Regina. I'm really in love with the next two chapters so I hope you'll stick around for them. But I need some advice from all of you. I've got seven more chapters written but I'm having trouble keeping the pace with new chapters since I'm putting out close to eight thousand words a week or more on here. I've just been given my first chance at a real, proper publication within academia and my field which needs to be written and is taking up my time because I also work. Also, writing this is really hard because I force myself to get into the character's headspaces to try and make it real and end up feeling the anxiety or the other emotions which makes each chapter quite draining (plus I'm having plot issues). I love writing it, don't get me wrong, but it's taking some time. Not to mention my muse has switched over to demanding me to write _In the Key of F._ So I've got some options and I'll do what you guys want: 1) continue posting at the regular rate and if I run out of chapters just start posting when I finish each one. 2) Change to only one chapter a week to draw it out more and write when I have free time to hopefully keep a regular schedule. 3) Keep posting this but switch to writing _In the Key of F_ so this one takes a bit of a hiatus when all chapters are posted and I post a new chapter for both stories each time they are finished, not with a schedule. I don't want to lose you all so what would work best for you? I don't want to let any of you down. Thanks! Let me know what you think of this one! Enjoy!

Warning: This chapter contains mentions of alcohol abuse.

Disclaimer: All aspects of Once Upon A Time belong to ABC and the show's creators.

Killian woke alone. Not that it should have surprised him but the dreams of being next to Emma had seemed so real. It was hard not to feel a twinge of disappointment at the lack of his dreams being reality. But as Killian had come to expect, Emma Swan wasn't far.

Emma was moving around the kitchen, seemingly lost in her own thoughts, hair pulled up in a tight bun, black unfitted pants and black ribbed tank top, gun strapped to her hip. Killian watched her for a few moments. She was so beautiful, even in the severe outfit. She was his saviour. Light. Guardian. But Killian wanted more. So, so much more. No matter what she said, what she thought about herself, Killian couldn't be swayed. If only now he could convince her of it.

Part of Killian worried that he had gone too far the night before with the pirate comment. But she hadn't run. She'd responded with _maybe. Maybe._ It wasn't a no. Wasn't a yes either, but Killian was a patient man. He would wait. As long as needed for that bloody beautiful woman to give herself a chance to be open to a relationship with him. Now if only he could make sure he didn't do or say anything again to cause her to backtrack.

A few moments later Emma still hadn't noticed him so he decided it was time to make himself known. Just in case she caught him staring.

"You finally planning to shoot me, lass?" Killian asked, eyebrow raised as he struggled to sit.

Day three had dawned with joints that ached and stiffened. Muscles feeling as if they were tremoring up the length of his body. Chills and heat. Fever. Sweating. There was a slight anxiety but the anger seemed to be kept at bay. Maybe that was the medication. Maybe it was the shame and guilt that had swept through him after his actions that kept it away. The determination to be good for Emma.

Emma jumped at his voice, turning to see him leaning against the arm of the sofa. "Nah, don't want to get blood on my sofa." Emma crossed the floor, coming to sit on the edge of the coffee table next to him. She seemed timid about being this close, glancing down at the knees of her pants, that this close were obviously from her uniform. "How are you feeling today?"

"It seems like boiling from the inside out is the flavour of the day."

Emma chewed her lip for a few moments, considering. Killian waited to see what she would do. Slowly, as if she was ready to stop at any moment, she reached out until the back of her hand rested against his forehead. Emma had touched him before but this seemed different after the night before. Killian kept watching her as she tested his temperature, feeling like she was touching him so much more intimately than she was. It didn't help that Emma left her hand against his forehead for far longer than necessary.

Killian reached up and grasped her hand, pulling it off his sweaty brow, holding it firmly but not tight enough that she couldn't pull away if she wanted to. She didn't. "Come love, you'll get my sweat all over those lovely hands." Killian ran his thumb across the back of her hand to accentuate his point about the dampness of his forehead.

"I need to get you some Tylenol to help bring that down," Emma said as she stared at their hands, still together on top of Killian's leg.

"It's not that bad, lass." Killian just didn't want her to let go because he wasn't sure if he'd ever get a chance to hold her hand again. They were warm but not as soft as he originally expected, callused in places from holding her gun or lifting weights, he wasn't sure. But her fingers curled just enough to fit around his own hand, just enough to make it feel like she belonged in his hand.

"I can tell you feel like shit, Killian."

"I'm feeling a bit better now." Don't let go. Don't leave him alone. Cold.

Emma's eyes fell again to their clasped hands. She chewed her lip, worrying it between her teeth. What Killian wouldn't do to kiss that lip. Taste the sweetness of her. Worship her as she deserved. Killian wanted to groan at the thought.

"Are you alright?" she asked, springing to her feet, hand slipping from his. Gone. Leaving him empty. "What's wrong? Is it your stomach?"

 _Bloody buggering fuck_ , that noise had been out loud _._

"Sore muscles is all," he replied quickly to cover his absolute stupidity. Or his inability to keep his mouth shut.

Emma nodded. "Tylenol will help with that too. You also need to take your multivitamin. I'll be right back."

"Thanks, lass," Killian murmured, watching her hurry away.

So close. They had been so close. Honestly, Killian wasn't sure what he would have done if they moved any further with the moment they were having. This type of desire was different than the type he felt when he went looking for company for a few hours. This was the type of desire that he wanted to go on for more than just a night. It wasn't an itch to be scratched. It was a need to be with her. A need to wake up next to her in the morning with her hair everywhere, even if sometimes it ended up in his mouth. A need to hold her hand tighter. For longer. Forever.

And now she'd taken off because he let his mind go too far to fast and couldn't hold in the noise. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Now that he had a taste of the contact, the way her hand fit into his, he couldn't imagine not ever having that again. Unfortunately, there was no real clue if the skittish and guarded lass would let her walls lapse again.

The only bright side of the whole thing was that his words last night, their movie night, didn't seem to scare her off. At this point that would have to be enough. With Emma he would have to take what he could get.

Emma returned a few moments later, holding another one of those cold press juices, this one red instead of Robin Hood tights coloured, and two capsules in her other hand. She dropped those into his hand first before offering the juice.

"You need to keep your hydration levels up, especially now with the fever."

"What's in this one?" Killian asked before setting the pills on his tongue, unscrewing the caps.

"Beets, apples and wheatgrass." Killian took a slug of it, coughing a bit at the sharp taste.

"You sure know how to pick them, lass."

Emma shrugged, motioning for him to take another drink. "Wheatgrass is good for building blood up and has a bunch of vitamins. And beets are really good for your liver and kidneys and pancreas."

Again, Killian was surprised about how much work she'd put into making sure she knew what Killian needed. It was touching, really. Though it would have been a whole lot more had the juice not tasted like dirt. "And the apple?" he asked with a little smirk.

"Taste. Sweetness. And they're fruit. Full of good stuff." Emma grinned back at him, completely unsympathetic to his juice plight.

"It needs more apples." Killian reached up, pinching his nose, and guzzled back the rest, slapping down the empty bottle with a grim satisfaction. "So, lass, you've still not told me why you're packing today."

Emma glanced down at her gun. "Oh, yeah, today I have to go back to work. Just for a few hours. I can call in sick if you don't feel like you can be alone."

Killian's smirk settled into a gentle smile. She cared so much even though she tried to be so casual about the whole thing. "Go to work, Emma. I need to learn to be alone again without self-destructing."

"Are you certain?"

No. Killian didn't want to be left alone. But not because he felt like he was going to drink again. It was because he had become so used to Emma being near that he didn't want to be alone again. She did help keep the awful thoughts at bay but it wasn't fair to her to be the only person who could do that for him. Killian needed to be able to do that for himself as well.

There were also some other things he needed to do.

"I'll be fine. I'm going to need to call my manager anyways before you get a missing persons report for me. Regina should know what I'm doing. She may be a tough lass but she can run a lot of interference for me with the other people in control of what I do." Killian couldn't stop the scowl from surfacing but he did his best to cover it quickly. Worrying about song writing wasn't something Emma needed to do. Worrying about his public appearance wasn't something she needed to think about. She was already doing her part. Killian couldn't ask any more.

"So long as you're positive I'll leave after breakfast and be back by three. Okay?"

"Sure, lass. Once I get off the phone with Regina I'll just try to sleep the rest of the time."

"Alright. Are eggs okay for breakfast?" Killian nodded, settling back on the sofa while Emma went to go make scrambled eggs, desperately wishing that he had the strength to be up there next to her cooking breakfast like they were together. Desperately wishing that she wanted him to do just that.

The rest of the morning passed by as it had for the last few days. It felt like they'd been doing this dance forever, Emma cooking eggs, cursing when she burnt the edges by not stirring it fast enough to scramble them then rooting through the fridge to pick a vegetable to mix in- not always to success. Killian watched, making quips and eating whatever she put in front of him, even if it was the last thing he wanted to do. It was nice. Calm. Comforting.

But then, around eleven it was time for Emma to leave. Killian could tell she was dithering, stalling for as long as possible. She asked about his temperature, seemingly unwilling to test it again herself, stood over him as he drank the glass of water she insisted he drink and then made him a sandwich to leave in the fridge for when he got hungry. Eventually Killian had had to practically push her out the door, because even though he wanted her to stay, he knew he wasn't worth her risking her job over.

Once Emma was out the door it was Killian's turn to stall, drinking another full glass of water as he tried to steel himself for calling his manager. Telling Regina would be less than pleasant. There had been texts and emails, each getting more threatening from the woman over the past few days. But Killian's head had been too sore for most of it to look at a screen to reply and then there was the moods. No way was he going to answer his manager when he was as angry as he had been the previous day. But it had only been three days. How mad could she be? Killian held onto the hope that the answer would be not a lot as he picked up the phone and dialed.

"Where the hell have you been?" Regina practically screamed without preamble when she answered the phone. Okay, so the answer was actually a lot. Before Killian could reply, she continued on. "I showed up at your house for our meeting and you weren't there. Or the next day. You haven't answered my calls. I swear if you are at a woman's house I'm going to kill you."

"Well, love, I am at a woman's apartment but it isn't what you think," Killian answered, cringing at the phone. Forcing himself to answer a text or two would have probably been a good idea. Might have stopped the Evil Queen like rage his manager was displaying at the moment.

"Killian, if you end up in the tabloids one more time because you can't control your libido-"

"I'm at a friend's house."

"Since when do you have friends?" Regina snapped, interrupting his explanation. Of course, he'd interrupted her rant so, tit for tat.

"You're very charming, love," he answered sarcastically, trying not to feel the sting of her words. Regina knew what had happened with the bandmates. Knew that really, he didn't have any friends. Except for Emma.

"I don't do _charming_ ," Regina replied in a poor imitation of his own accent.

"Darling, you've been my manager for nearly ten years. You'd think you'd have gotten better with the accent by now."

"It isn't my fault you have that ridiculous way of talking. You'd think a poor boy wouldn't grow up to sound so pompous." Before Killian could snip back Regina sighed. "Where are you Killian and what are you doing? Your image can't take any more of this foolishness. I thought you knew that." Regina's voice was much gentler, more disappointed than angry. Killian's guts twisted.

Time for the reveal. It would be an understatement to say he was nervous. "I'm at a friend's house, her name is Emma by the way, because I'm drying out." Killian paused for a moment, letting that information sink in.

"Drying out? As in-" Regina trailed off, almost like she was too scared to hope Killian had stopped drinking.

"Aye. Some things have happened recently that made it very apparent that I am an alcoholic."' Killian let the word sit on his tongue for a few seconds, bitter tasting, before continuing on. "I'm three days into the detox process now."

"Killian," Regina replied in a surprised breath. "Wow. What made you stop? I've been trying for years."

And Regina had been. But it seemed that she hadn't been doing it the way Killian needed. It had always been framed as guilt. Never as a choice, a chance for a better life. There was always disappointment and heavy shame whereas with Emma, she was a step back from the offer, leaving it in the centre of the table for Killian to reach out and grab like an extra serving of mashed potatoes. It was different. But it was a good different. And then there was the difference in Emma and Regina, one noon day sun, the other midnight moon. Yes, Killian was doing this for himself, but the further he got into the detox process, the more he realized that a certain blonde also had a lot to do with his change of heart. The desire to be a better man.

Killian launched into the story of how and a SparkNotes version of why, holding the phone about a foot from his ear when he told Regina he'd been arrested for operating a motor vehicle under the influence. The only thing that had calmed her was the fact that it had been Emma and her colleagues to arrest him and she would keep the whole thing quiet and away from the press. Regina had offered to send Emma a fruit basket after that. Killian explained how the process worked, his symptoms and Dr. Whale's examination when Regina worried about his health and offered to send some famous clinician in to see him. It wasn't Killian's place to allow a stranger into Emma's home without her permission, especially since this apartment was like her fortress. And Killian definitely wasn't ready to leave the place that had become such an escape for him in just a few days.

"I'm proud of you for doing this, Killian," Regina said quietly, as if she couldn't imagine she was saying it, once Killian had finished explaining what was going on. "Liam would be proud of you."

Killian had nothing to say to that. Because there was no way he could ever live up to his heroic brother's standards of good form. No matter how hard he had tried, something had always dragged him back down, some vice, be it booze, money or women, even when he was on the straight and narrow with _Neverland's Lost Pirates_. There were too many decisions in his past that Liam had had to bail him out of. It just always felt like he was making the wrong decision, no matter how it turned out, as if he could never make it brother as proud as he wanted. Liam had told Killian he was proud of him but it had never been enough for the self-doubt of the inner abandoned child in Killian to believe. But that was before Killian fell into drink and a new woman every night. Even if Killian was trying to claw his way back to the man he used to be, Killian would never hear Liam say how proud he was of him again.

Regina cleared her throat when Killian didn't answer, the line hanging silent between them. "Even though I agree what you're doing is important, the record label is still breathing down my neck. They're demanding a new song from you."

"I can't give them that right now," Killian answered truthfully. Not when it was trying to write a song that had created the mess with The Jolly Roger in the first place. Killian hadn't thought much about the actual song writing process until Regina's words and the prospect scared him. What if the memories song writing brought up were too much and the will power he had crumbled under him? What if Emma wasn't around to keep him a float while he wrote? She couldn't babysit him while he worked. That wasn't fair to her. No, Killian wasn't ready. "I need some more time, Regina. _Please?_ "

Killian never said please. Not to Regina. And Regina never said it to him. They just ordered each other around, a mutual understanding in place. Regina didn't miss Killian's use of the word and the significance of it. "I can fight for them to give you two weeks. But I need one song by the end of that period or they'll have both our heads. Okay?"

"Okay. Thanks, love."

"Just get better, Killian." With that Regina hung up the phone, not waiting for Killian's response.

Two weeks. Killian already had part of a song written. _Peter Pan's Minion._ Hopefully he could finish the song in time without the process swallowing him whole.


	14. The Promise

_A/N:_ So as of Monday, this story will be posted once a week (on Mondays). Thank you all so much for all your feedback on the schedule! I really appreciate it! School and my career in academia is my top priority but this is important to, and I don't want to disappoint you all. Hopefully I'll be able to write more of this story soon, but I've been having a harder time with my OCD than usual lately so I may take a small break from writing and rely on my already written chapters for a bit. So thank you for sticking around! I hope you enjoy this very Emma centric chapter! Let me know what you think of this! Enjoy!

Warning: This chapter contains mentions of alcohol abuse and emotional neglect.

Disclaimer: All aspects of Once Upon A Time belong to ABC and the show's creators.

Emma spent the whole drive to the police station trying to find a good excuse to turn around and head back to her apartment. It wasn't that she expected Killian to fall off the wagon the minute she left but she was worried. Worried because day three was the worst. Killian had woken up with a fever. The tremors hadn't subsided. The headache and sore bones were still there. What if he got worse? What if he started to vomit again and aspirated it or passed out trying to go to the kitchen and hit his head against the counter? What if something happened to him?

That thought made Emma's chest constrict and her stomach roll.

No, she couldn't handle that. That thought she'd had the night before about Killian crushing her ran through her head again. She wasn't making it out of this process in one piece. Not when she already felt so much for the man.

And it seemed like he felt things for her too. Trying to make things up to her when he was an ass because of mood swings. The place he'd chosen to sit on the couch. The words about being a pirate. The way he'd held her hand this morning, not trapping her in but as if he just wanted her there with him. It was all real. It had to be.

But what did that mean for them? Did Killian want to date her? Could they do that? Could _Emma_ do that? She hadn't dated since Neal, if what they had done could be called dating. Mainly it was stealing chocolate bars and sandwiches together and eating them in the backseat of the yellow bug they rode around in. With Neal it was a craving for intimacy and love after a lifetime of loneliness. It was sex and seeing things that weren't there, putting up with some shady activity and an unstable life because family had been the only thing she'd wanted. But now- now Emma was older. She was more jaded and cynical after watching the man she had once loved be scraped off the pavement. She'd found family in David and Mary Margaret and Leo, even if they sometimes overwhelmed her. And Killian wasn't Neal. Killian didn't live a life of crime. Killian had a career, a public presence, wasn't stealing to feed himself. Killian had the manners that Neal didn't. Killian probably courted women properly, would take them to nice restaurants or rent out entire islands or whatever it was that rich musicians did when they wanted to show women they cared. Of course Killian had issues Neal didn't. Killian had a long road of recovery ahead of him. Maybe just as many scars and wounds as Emma had to deal with, now having to cope without the haze of alcohol.

But as much as it terrified her, Emma didn't care. Emma wanted all of it. Wanted Killian. She wanted to be loved by someone who understood the purpose of and reason behind her walls. Who knew to be gentle and kind and let her come around at her own pace. Who knew that Emma had a fierce capacity to love, she just didn't quite know how to sometimes. Who wanted her as much as she wanted him.

Someone who recognized Emma wouldn't, couldn't make the first move so made it himself.

And that would be the trick then. Emma could pine and yearn all she wanted but she couldn't make the first move. She couldn't take that miniscule risk that she was wrong about Killian's feelings and end up rejected and broken hearted once more. Because Killian would break her. But how much was the question.

She needed to limit the damage. Emma was all about protecting herself. Probably because she'd never had anyone to protect her. Ever since she'd been sent back to that orphanage at little more than a four-year-old, no longer wanted by the family that gave her, her last name it had been up to Emma to protect herself from people who used her, abused her, threw her away. It was why she got angry. The anger swallowed up any love or need she felt for the families she was placed with because they always, _always_ gave her back. The fight simmering just under her skin saved her from the older boys in her foster home and the foster fathers who saw her as little more than a cheque and a body. The icy stares and pursed lips, the lack of idle chit chat and socializing kept the kids at the twenty-two schools she went to away. It made getting transferred easier because she never had to say goodbye. Her walls kept men away- until Neal. The moat and turrets, guarded by ogres that she'd built to protect her emotional castle after Neal's betrayal kept absolutely everyone who could hurt her away. It kept her safe. Gave her a little bubble to exist within.

Thinking about that all together Emma felt that twist of defeat and loss that rose up every time she allowed herself to think about the life she'd created for herself. Mary Margaret liked to say that her walls might keep her safe but they kept out love. To Mary Margaret a life without love wasn't life. It was survival. But survival was the only thing Emma knew no matter what else she might want deep down. It was the only thing that had gotten her through her childhood, her years with Neal, the aftermath, piecing her life back together and the subsequent destruction that had resulted in her removal from her, and David's, dream job. And anyways, she was pretty sure she'd lost the key to the emotional castle gate the day Neal's murder was called in. She had no idea how to get out. It was why, if anything were to ever happen with Killian he needed to make the first move. He needed to release her from the dragon guarded castle she'd found herself stranded in. If Killian wanted it enough, he would find a way.

Emma pulled into the police station, parking at the back of the lot next to David's SUV, pushing away the thoughts of the mess she'd found herself in. Despite living farther away in a suburb with a white picket fence and toy trucks in the perfectly manicured yard, David always arrived before her. A coffee and bear claw from the diner, Granny's, in David's 'burb would be waiting on Emma's desk if they had a morning or late night shift and a grilled cheese would be there if they had the midday one. It was like the man couldn't be more perfect if he tried. It was kind of sickening.

But also really nice.

Emma loved the Nolans, despite all her hesitation and walls. She really, _really,_ did.

It was really nice to finally have someone in her corner who wasn't going anywhere- no matter how distant or irritating she was. To not have to protect herself around the family. Her family.

As expected David was already seated at his side of the desk, reviewing a file as he munched on a ham and cheese sandwich, a white bag with the bright logo of Granny's embossed on it sitting on top of the mess of Emma's side. David's uniform was pressed to perfection, starch lines running down the middle of his pants, his hat balanced on the edge of his chair. The gold medallion of his lieutenant standing was polished to where Emma was pretty sure she could apply her eyeliner in the reflection. Emma's own uniform didn't have the badge, instead her sleeves having three blue arrows as she was a sergeant. David had been in the force about four years longer than she had and after Emma's mess up with homicide she hadn't been promoted yet. David kept telling her it was coming though. Emma wasn't holding her breath.

"You're my favourite, you know that right?" Emma said in way of greeting, pulling open the takeout bag to reveal a grilled cheese and order of onion rings.

David laughed, finally looking up from the papers in his hand. "I know. But it's nice to be reminded sometimes."

"Keep bringing me these and I'll tell you every time," Emma laughed as she settled down in her own chair, taking a large bite out of the sandwich.

"Mary Margaret would have my hide if I fed you like you wanted me to all the time." Emma shoved the sandwich in her mouth to keep from blurting out about how she'd been eating lately, all kale and scrambled eggs. David would immediately know something was up if she did. Emma knew David should know what she was doing but it just seemed like such a big thing to bring up. How did she admit she currently had a famous rock star sleeping on her couch and detoxing from several years of alcohol abuse? There definitely wasn't a WikiHow article for that.

"So that was quite the case last night we were here," David mused, glancing up at her. Emma nearly choked on the massive chunk of sandwich in her mouth at the timing. Maybe she wasn't going to have to bring it up. Emma gave a slow nod and a noncommittal shrug. David reached over to the paper he had been reviewing when Emma arrived, pulling it closer to him.

"I was looking over the file just now and I noticed that no one ever came and got Killian. No one signed him out. Now I know I left him with you and you said his manager was coming but that didn't happen. Did you forget to have his manager sign?" David held up the case file, pointing to where the person coming to bail him out of the drunk tank should have signed. It was blank.

"Oh, um, I, no," Emma floundered. David's stare intensified as he watched a blush climb up her neck and a nervous energy start to vibrate through her limbs. Emma never behaved like that, and she knew David knew and realized that. _Fuck._ Just spit it out. Rip the Band-Aid off. There was no reason for her to be stalling as she was. She was a grown adult. What did it matter what anyone else thought? "Killian never came into the station."

"Did he run? Seriously? What happened?" David asked, the anger in his voice starting to ratchet up at the idea of the man taking off on Emma. The officer at the next desk over noticed, staring at them from over his computer. Emma shot the eavesdropper an angry glare.

If she told David what had happened in the station, they would be overheard. It wasn't that Emma had done anything she wasn't supposed to. Killian wasn't supposed to have been locked up overnight. The man was free to do as he pleased so long as he paid his fine and once Emma got off her shift she was as well. But having the talk with David, telling her pseudo-brother what had happened, would probably bring up elements of her past. Elements she wanted none of her fellow officers to know about.

"Want to go patrol?" Emma asked. She didn't wait for a response, instead standing, pulling her cap on and grabbing her half drank coffee before leaving the bullpen. There was the scraping of a chair on tile behind her as David rushed to catch up.

"I'll drive," David said when he'd caught up to her, his voice full of barely restrained curiosity. Emma nodded. She wasn't going to argue. If she was going to tell David what she'd been doing, then she probably shouldn't have been behind the wheel. Dredging up memories, even around David, took all her focus.

Emma slid into the passenger seat of their shared cruiser, buckling herself in. David did the same in the seat beside her. They were both silent as David drove out of the lot, turning the car right so they could start their normal patrol route.

Eventually, when they were five minutes up the road, David spoke. "So, you let him go?"

Emma chewed on her lip, anxiety fluttering inside her. It felt a little bit like she was telling her father about her first boyfriend. Which was ridiculous because David wasn't her father. And Killian and she definitely weren't dating. Unless kids these days were now counting time spent on a bathroom floor as one of the pair threw up beet juice a romantic date. For all Emma knew about dating that kind of thing might just have counted now.

Emma shook her head to rid herself of the strange thoughts. "I didn't let him go, per say," she started, voice measured. David was quiet, knowing that if he interrupted her she'd never get it all out. Emma kept her eyes trained on the road ahead of them. "I met Killian before that night. Killian was being chased by groupies and ended up in my apartment building to get away from them. I let him in my place to hide." Emma swallowed, breathing heavily through her nose. "When I met him, it just seemed like there was something more there than some vain celebrity." She didn't know how to put into words that initial meeting. How prickly she'd been because she immediately sensed some stranger starting to pick at the mortar of her self-made prison. How she had seen into Killian's own castle almost immediately. Emma shrugged before David could comment on the obvious emotion sitting beneath her words. The strangeness of her talking about a man in such a way. "It didn't matter though because when was I ever going to see him again? Killian made a pompous crack about concert tickets as he was leaving and I thought that was that."

"Except it wasn't," David replied quietly, a gentle prodding for her to go on. Emma appreciated the lack of judgement from her partner.

"No, it wasn't. I never expected that to be his boat or to find him drunk like that. Killian was drunk in my apartment that first time as well. The man is an alcoholic. There was a lot of shitty stuff in his past and he turned to rum to cope. I didn't find out what until later but I knew there was something. I guess Killian reminded me of me. The same thing could have happened to me if I didn't have you after Neal's murder." Emma glanced down at her lap, feeling the sting of the nights David had found her in a bar after their day was over, practically asleep on the countertop, a bottle of tequila in front of her. She remembered that first time she'd ever tried alcohol as an eleven-year-old who was lonely and hungry, the foster family she was living will all alcoholics so rum was easily available after they had all fallen into their nightly stupor. That burn would have so easily pushed away the pain of her life and soothe her anger if she let it. She almost did. Until the money ran out and so did the alcohol, Emma having helped that along with her own secret nightly drinking, and both adults started to detox. Four days in and Emma called the paramedics in an absolute panic. She'd been pulled from the house that night and put in a group home, away from any more alcohol. It wasn't the last time she'd indulged in tequila but she'd always been careful of becoming addicted after seeing that detox and being helpless to it. Until Neal's death and a lifetime's worth of pain that she had spent her life shoring up in big, locked storage bins was released and she was unable to stop the damage. Yeah, she may have ended up like Killian if it wasn't for David.

"It could have," David acknowledged. David had been the one to hold Emma's hair back as she threw up in their guest bathroom, hungover. Emma wasn't detoxing but she'd been in bad shape emotionally. Mary Margaret had baked in a frenzy, worry making her usual movements jerky as she made sticky buns in the morning and pies in the afternoon. Emma lived with the couple and their baby for over a month after David had pulled her from the dive bar, until the investigation was wrapped up and Emma had been reprimanded. Emma didn't know how she'd ever be able to make up to David not only for changing his job to follow her, but also for making sure she was able to make it through the whole process without giving in the vices and habits that promised to bring her peace.

"Yeah. Well, it did for Killian. And I was talking to him on the boat after Ariel went off at him. Killian didn't seem to want to drink but it was like he was helpless to it. Self-medicating, you know? And he said he'd lose his career if his manager found out or news of his arrest got into the media. Killian's career was the only thing he had left and if he lost that-" again Emma trailed off, knowing she didn't need to explain why that had had her understanding the musician to David. It was why she had elected to take up a job with patrol after earning her dream job. Lose everything or lose part. Emma chose to lessen the collateral damage. She just hadn't ever expected David to help make the whole situation easier to bear by going with her.

"So I lied to you and Ariel and took him back to my place. Initially it was just to spend the night and sober up, in case he developed alcohol poisoning or something. But then I realized that if I just took him back to his place the next morning he'd start the whole process all over again. And it wasn't like he could go to rehab if he wanted to stay with his label because they'd find out. So I decided that if Killian really wanted it, he could use my apartment as his own personal rehab." Emma went on, explaining everything from the last few days to David. David got angry when he heard about how Killian had yelled at her on the second day but stayed quiet while Emma went on to explain the peace offering Killian had made after Victor had examined him. That seemed to mollify David.

When Emma finished the story David was quiet for a long while. Emma still couldn't look at him. What if David thought she'd been a fool for allowing Killian into her home to undergo such a dangerous process? It wouldn't change Emma's decision regarding Killian but she needed David's approval for her own personal reasons. She'd been trying so hard to prove that she was a good person, that she wasn't the person she used to be, and it would mean a lot for David, the ultimate hero, to validate her work. Especially since she was desperate to pay David back for following her to patrol.

"You know, Emma, I feel like I should be surprised that you did this. How long did it take for you to invite me and Mary Margaret over to your place for the first time?"

"I don't think I ever _invited_ you," Emma answered, emotions making her laugh sound a little hysterical. David turned towards her quickly, sending a gentle smile her way.

"Semantics. As I was saying, I feel like I should be surprised because you're so private and protected. But I'm not. Instead I'm just really proud."

Emma sucked in a breath, turning finally to look at David. "Really?"

David smiled at her and nodded. "Yeah, I am. Because even though this whole process couldn't have been easy and you're allowing someone else to exist within your space, you're doing it anyways. Your helping someone who needs it no matter what personal cost it is to you. You're making a difference in Killian's life, Emma. And you know what?" Emma raised a brow, cheeks hot with a blush from David's kind words. "I think he's making a difference in your life as well."

"Oh, well-" Emma pulled the plastic cup off her empty coffee, leaving the paper cup in the holder and prying at the white plastic with her fingers.

Emma wasn't sure what to say. Because now that David had brought it up Emma realized it was true. Killian had changed her diet. Yes, it had only been a few days but Emma already felt better, less prone to sugar crashes when she started her morning with scrambled eggs and juice than a bear claw. But it was more than just the change to her diet. It was having a person around. Not being lonely. Having someone to share dinner with, watch television at the end of the day beside, share bits and pieces of a life lived in isolation with. It was feeling her heart open up despite her better judgement to allow in a handsome musician with deep emotional scars and poor coping habits. It was having someone hold her hand and not want to let go.

"I guess so," Emma murmured, ripping at the plastic. David reached over and pulled the object from her hands before she could cut herself on the jagged edge.

"So tell me something else," David started, pulling over so he could turn to watch her carefully. Emma's eyes flickered down to her lap and away from the eyes who knew her better than anyone. "Do you like Killian?"

"Of course I like him. We're friends," Emma answered far too quickly. It took all her focus to shove down the revealing cringe. David noticed anyway.

"Not like that, Emma. Be honest." Honesty. She owed David that. And herself.

"It's not like it matters," Emma answered. "What's Killian going to want with a fuck up like me?"

"So you do like him," David replied with a triumphant smile, ignoring what Emma had said because they'd had that conversation hundreds of times before.

"So what?" Emma could feel herself getting angry. Angry at David for pushing. Angry at being the kind of person who Killian could never like in a real way. Never love. Angry at herself for letting this situation happen in the first place. Angry because she'd have to say goodbye soon to the first man who she'd ever felt something for since Neal.

"So everything," David answered, voice firm. "Take a chance, Emma. You like him. And Killian would be a fool not to like you back from what I've heard. Honestly, it sounds like he does like you. Take a chance Emma. You owe it to yourself to try."

"But what if he doesn't like me after this is all over?" Emma asked, voice quiet.

"I'll arrest him. Lock him up for good." Emma felt her lip quiver up into a small smile. "Let yourself be happy, Emma. And if Killian could maybe make you happy in some small way, you need to go for it." David reached across the console and set a warm arm on hers. "You don't need to go make out with him right away or propose tomorrow. Just be open to the idea of being with Killian. Be open to the idea of being happy."

Happy. Emma wanted to be happy. She might not feel like she always deserved to be happy but she wanted it. And David, the person she felt she owed her happiness to as she tried to make up to him for the job debacle, was giving her permission. She didn't have to throw everything away in some noble sacrifice to her partner to prove that she was good enough, worth it. Maybe somehow she could salvage a bit of that happiness with Killian.

"Okay."

"Yeah?"

Emma nodded. "I'll try my best."

"That's all I ask." David leaned over and kissed her temple before starting the car again. "Now I suppose you want me to fill Mary Margaret in so you don't have to?"

"That's all I ask," Emma laughed, repeating David's words. No way was she telling Mary Margaret that she had a rock star, who she kind of, sort of, had feelings for detoxing on her living room sofa. Mary Margaret got all nosy if Emma got a new coffee machine. The woman would be insufferable if Emma tried to explain what had happened over the last few days to her.

The rest of the shift went by quicker as Emma's anxiety had lifted. David didn't really bring anything more about what Emma was doing up save to ask for some information on Killian's music. She'd played him one of the more famous songs Killian had from the YouTube app on her phone, rolling her eyes when David actually recognized the song and started singing along. Maybe Mary Margaret wasn't going to be the problem. Maybe David would actually turn out to be a secret Killian Jones fan club member.

As the time had gone on Emma had found her anxiety shifting to Killian. Was he alright? She felt guilty for leaving him on what was supposed to be the hardest day, especially since he had a fever. Killian hadn't called her but she worried anyways. What if Killian needed her but couldn't call because he'd passed out. What if he couldn't get off the bathroom floor and had no one to bring him Red Powerade and anti-nausea medication? The idea of Killian actually caving and leaving her apartment to go find alcohol without her there as a distraction was too panic inducing to even think about. It had been with a relieved breath that she raced out of the police station as soon as her shift was over.

Just before four Emma let herself into her apartment, toeing her boots off quietly in case Killian was still asleep. The apartment was silent as Emma crept forward into the main part, eyes sweeping the space for the familiar dark head of hair. It took all Emma's strength not to crumple to the floor with relief when she saw that he was still in the apartment.

Killian was laying on the couch, knees pulled up and blanket covering him, sleeping. A sheen of sweat from the fever coated his forehead as his body was wracked with chills and tremors. An empty glass sat on the coffee table next to an empty Powerade bottle from where Killian had attempted to remain hydrated. Emma moved closer, reaching forward until the back of her hand pressed gently against Killian's forehead. The man was burning up.

"Swan?" Killian asked, blearily opening an eye.

"Hey," Emma answered quietly, pulling back her hand. "I'm just checking your fever. It hasn't broken yet." Even though Emma knew fever was a symptom it didn't stop her worry, or her from pressing her hand against Killian's sweat slicked skin a second time. Killian leaned into her touch, shifting until her hand was under his head. Killian obviously felt terrible. David's earlier words came back to her then. Emma shifted down so she was sitting on the floor in front of her, at eye level with the sleepy man, and left her hand under his warm head.

"I feel like shit," Killian mumbled, leaning heavier on her hand. "How was your day?"

Emma snorted at the question to cover how damn domestic it sounded. How much she actually liked it. "It was fine. I told David about what we were doing."

"Oh?"

"Yeah," Emma answered with a nod, bringing her other hand up to brush damp hair away from his forehead. "David said he wasn't surprised I was doing this."

"But aren't you supposed to be prickly?"

"I am not prickly," Emma answered, giving Killian a poke in the cheek. Killian's lip twitched up in a week smile. Emma rolled her eyes. "David wasn't surprised because of my history." Looking at Killian struggling to stay awake so he could hear her, Emma realized she wanted to share a bit. "Like you guessed I'm an orphan. I grew up in the system, right from when I was two days old and found on the side of a rural highway in Maine." Killian started to struggle to sit up, like he wanted to give her his full attention. Emma shook her head. She needed the casualness of this to get through the story. Killian seemed to understand, settling back down against her hand. "Anyways, for a lot of my life I was around alcohol. I gained a reputation of an angry kid so a lot of the good homes didn't want me. I ended up when I was eleven with a couple who were both alcoholics and emotionally abusive. I started drinking too. It made the alcohol disappear faster. They were on a fixed income. The booze ran out and they both started to go into withdrawal. I guess that was my fault but I was always hungry and lonely and told how worthless I was that I just needed something to make it better." Emma's voice grew rocky as she got caught in the emotions swirling inside. Killian reached his hand out to grasp the hand Emma had sat on the edge of the couch after brushing through his soft hair. He gave her fingers a squeeze which Emma returned. "So the withdrawal was bad. Way worse than yours because they'd been abusing alcohol for years and years. I panicked. I thought they were going to die. So I called 911. That afternoon I was removed and placed in a home for troubled kids."

"I'm sorry, Emma."

Emma shook her head. She didn't want his sympathy or pity. "David knew all that." And the Neal aftermath but Emma didn't feel strong enough to talk about that right then. "So he understood why I wanted to give you a chance."

"You never had that."

"No."

"You never had someone to protect you." Emma shook her head at the observation, the lump in her throat stealing her voice. "Thank you for protecting me." Killian lifted their clasped hands up to his mouth and pressed a soft kiss against her knuckles.

Killian's lips were soft and warm. Too warm from the fever but Emma didn't care. Not when Killian had actually kissed her. The desire to rip her hand from Killian's grasp and run into her bedroom welled up. But she had promised David that she would be open to the idea of Killian and she being something more than friends. That promise was barely strong enough to hold back the panic. Barely strong enough to push away the walls that were threatening to build up higher. But it was. A small win over her past. Not the war but a single battle. It was enough. For now.

Killian let their hands fall back against the sofa. "How was your day?" Emma asked back when the hands were away from her mouth.

"I slept after I called Regina. Unlike David she was surprised I was doing this." Killian's face twisted in a scowl, that self-depreciation showing through. "But she's okay with it. She's going to buy me two weeks to recover away from the record company. But once that's done I need a song written or-" Killian trailed off, worry making his voice tight. Emma didn't need to ask for further explanation.

"Two weeks is plenty time," she offered, trying to soothe his anxiety. "In like two days you'll be feeling better. You'll have time to figure out your music. You'll be able to write with a clearer head than you have for a long time."

"But what if I don't? What if I get fired from the label?"

"You'll find a new label. You're Killian Jones." When Killian didn't smile Emma gave his hand a little shake. "And if not, you'll just be a regular joe with a huge nest egg. Maybe I can get you a job as a secretary at the station."

"I think they prefer to be called administrative assistant," Killian replied with a small smile.

"See," Emma snorted, "you already know the lingo. Look, Killian," Emma continued, sobering, "it's going to be okay. Whatever happens we'll figure it out." The we slipped out before Emma could stop it.

Killian gave her a genuine smile then, despite it being small, not missing her word choice. "As long as the we stays, I think you're right."

Emma had no idea what to say to that. The half hour that she'd been home had been too emotionally overwhelming. All the hand holding, the hand kiss, the truth, the we. Too much. Killian seemed to sense that, letting her hand go with a sad little smile. An escape. Emma took it, pulling her hand, skin hot from the contact, into her lap. She left her other one under Killian's cheek though. A compromise.

"Can I get you anything?" Emma asked.

"Maybe something to drink?"

"Will you take some Tylenol to help with the fever?" Killian nodded, stubble brushing against her palm, tickling and sending shocks up the length her arm. "Okay then." Emma stood, pulling her hand out from under Killian before moving to the kitchen. From the fridge Emma selected a cold-pressed juice made out of pineapple, mango and ginger. The sandwich still sat on the shelf from where she'd made it earlier, Killian having had nothing to eat that day since she left. Worry shot through her as the idea of the third day of withdrawal loomed over them.

She needed to get Killian's fever down. Because now Emma was certain. If something happened to the man, the kind, soft lipped and warm hearted man, her own heart was going to be shredded into a million pieces.


	15. Silver Sea

_A/N:_ So this is my favourite chapter out of all 21 I've written so far! And Silver Sea is my favourite song ever, one from my own childhood. I highly recommend a listen, though I prefer the cover my uncle's band does to the original Masterless Men version. Also, just so you know, the next chapter's a doozy. We're nearly at the end of the detox chapters! Thanks for all your support on this story, it really means a lot to me! Let me know waht you think of this! Enjoy!

Warning: This chapter contains mentions of alcohol abuse.

Disclaimer: All aspects of Once Upon A Time belong to ABC and the show's creators and all aspects of Silver Seas belong to The Masterless Men.

If Killian didn't feel like he was simultaneously boiling alive and buried under eight feet of ice he might have felt the desire to celebrate Emma not pulling away. For allowing him to kiss her hand. For not saying anything about the use of we. For everything that had happened in the last hour. But instead the most he could do was burry farther into the sofa and wait for spontaneous combustion.

Killian wasn't sure what had caused Emma to change her mind about them. Or why he felt so much about the whole thing. It wasn't like she'd made any grand gestures and got down on one knee. She'd just allowed him to hold her hand and kiss her knuckles like the gentleman he so desperately wanted to become again. But this was Emma. The woman who'd been torn apart by love and life and terrified by the prospect of opening herself back up. The only thing that had been different was that she had gone to work. Had David said something when she told him about what the two of them had been doing for the past three days? If he did, Killian owed David a fruit basket. And maybe a statue in his honour.

Whatever the reason, Killian was happy. Because there was hope that he and Emma could be something more than friends. The process would be slow; Killian wasn't kidding himself on that. But maybe, after this whole withdrawal was over he could ask her out to supper, court her like she deserved? Maybe that would be a small enough start for Emma not to panic. All Killian wanted was a chance. Well, he wanted way more than that with Emma, but for now, a chance was more than enough.

Soft feet padded back towards him. Killian cracked open his eyes, the lids eight times heavier than normal. Emma stood over him holding out a yellow juice and two Tylenol capsules.

"What's in it this time?" Killian asked, squirming until his head rested against the couch arm, elevated enough so he could drink the juice.

"Just fruit and ginger," Emma answered with a laugh, handing over the medication. Killian knocked the capsules back, downing them in a mouthful juice. After the Tylenol was swallowed he set the juice aside. Drinking any more seemed too much for his wrung out body. Emma shook her head, picking the drink back up. "Come on, you need to finish it."

"Can't I just sleep for a bit instead, Emma? I'll drink more when the Tylenol fixes the fever." Killian didn't mean to sound as pleading as he did but he just wanted to go back to sleep. That movement needed to partially sit up had drained him. The strain it put on his neck made his back ache right down to his tailbone. That pain didn't even come close to the need and the desire for alcohol that threaded through his day. It was an undercurrent to each movement, each sip of juice, each memory that sprung up throughout the day. Too much to find peace but not enough to give in and run. Limbo between clean and addicted.

"Okay," Emma agreed, looking unsure. "I'll give you two hours. If you still have a fever, then you need to drink it all and a full one of water."

Killian was asleep before he could even reply.

"Killian?" A light hand shook at his shoulder, pulling him from a restless sleep. Every muscle ached from the shivering he'd been doing all day compounded by the withdrawal tremors. The chills still wracked his body as he sweated through every pore on his body. "Killian? Come on, I need you to wake up." Emma sounded worried and the tone was enough for Killian to force his eyes open.

"Hi lass," he mumbled, trying to give her a reassuring smile. Emma's beautiful face was creased with worry, her lips and brows pulled down into a frown. Her eyes combed over his body, studying, observing, worrying. Even upset she was still gorgeous. But Killian still wanted to wipe the frown from her features, make her smile again.

"Your fever still hasn't broken," Emma stated, reaching to touch his forehead. Killian sighed in relief at the contact with her soft skin. "I called Victor. He said it's okay for you to stay here since you're not like dangerously fevered and hallucinating and stuff. But he said we need to cool you down ASAP or you will need to go to the hospital."

"I'm okay, Swan. Don't worry about me."

Emma flapped her free hand as if she were waving off his comment, an irritated flick one would normally use against mosquitoes. "Victor said to run you a cool bath. So I need you to drink all this juice while I do that. Don't go back to sleep. Okay?"

No. Killian didn't want to do that. He didn't want to have to walk across the room to the bathroom and sit in a cold tub when he felt like he was freezing already. He didn't want to do anything but sleep. But Emma wanted him to do it. She worried about him. Cared how he was.

"I will for you," Killian grunted out as he pulled himself into a sitting position, not looking at Emma to give her space to process his words. Emma reached forwards, supporting his back as he got up, seemingly not overly freaked out by his words. Once sitting up, Emma eased him back against the sofa cushions and handed him the juice.

"Drink up," she instructed, sounding a little antsy. But it seemed a little more worry over the situation than panic at his words. "I'll be right back."

Killian lifted the bottle to his lips with a shaking hand. One sip. A stomach roll. No, he didn't want to do this. The scraping of the shower curtain being pulled back caught his attention. Emma was in there. Beautiful, kind, worried Emma. Another sip. Emma who had been through so much but still tried to do more. Another sip. Emma who was so scared of what was between them but still allowed him to hold her hand. Another sip. For her, even though it had only been a few days, he would do anything. A final sip.

The sound of rushing water filled the apartment. Emma appeared in the doorway. Even from the distance, her relieved sigh when she noticed the empty juice bottle in Killian's hand was visible. Killian hadn't had someone to care about him in such a way in years. Not since Liam died and he pushed away all his friends. Everyone else he interacted with were just concerned about his fame.

And there certainly hadn't been a woman to care about him since Milah. Regina tried but she was first and foremost his manager. She was most concerned with his image and career because that was what she was contracted to do. Killian couldn't fault her for it. He knew he was lucky to still have her after _Neverland's Lost Pirates_ broke up and Killian spiralled. The women Killian had spent his nights with wanted nothing more than to say Killian Jones was a notch on their headboards. It didn't matter to them that Killian was usually far too drunk or spouting off obnoxious one liners. It just mattered that they got _Rock Star Killian Jones_ back to their bed. As Killian was just sleeping with them as a distraction he couldn't find himself to be that upset over the lack of romance. It was better that way. That way he couldn't be betrayed in the way Milah had betrayed him.

But Emma, damn, that woman was changing things. Was changing him.

Emma disappeared into the bathroom again, the apartment falling into silence as she shut off the tap. It seemed to be bath time. The whole prospect of what they were about to do made him feel like a four-year-old. The last thing Killian wanted to do was go soak in a tub full of cold water but he pushed himself up anyway, swaying slightly as his knees buckled in tiny movements as if the ground beneath him was having aftershocks. If this torturous process would make him feel better in the end, then Killian really couldn't say no.

"You could have waited for me," Emma said when Killian entered the small room, worry making her tone tight.

"It wasn't far, lass. I'm not that invalid," Killian replied, eyeing the cold water dubiously. Emma just rolled her eyes in return, plopping down on the closed toilet seat lid and motioning for him to get changed. Killian raised a brow.

"Leave your underwear on, Casanova."

"Your staying?" Killian asked, nerves suddenly fluttering to life.

The butterflies made no sense and made him rockier on his feet. Killian had been naked in front of countless women. Probably too many but it wasn't a time to count. But in that moment his mind started to take stock of all the things on his body that weren't as good as they used to be. His stomach wasn't as toned. The fact that he was still slender was due to the fact that he rarely ate and frequently ran on nothing but liquids, rather than the exercise that used to fuel his body. His arms weren't as strong. No longer were they arms to hold someone safely in. Too bony. The tan of being on his boat all summer was faded to the parlour of a fourteen-year-old who'd just gotten a new video game system and a game with large breasted women as characters. It wasn't the body he wanted Emma to see.

"Well, I need to make sure you're not going to go into shock and die. Leave your shirt on if you're worried about your nipples falling off in the cold." Emma's voice cut through his worries. Her tone was joking but Killian could tell she had sensed his nerves and was offering a way out. Swallowing down an obnoxious come back about her nipples, one that Emma would _not_ appreciate, Killian reached for the hem of his damp t-shirt, pulling it over his head. Sweatpants followed the shirt to the floor, leaving him standing nearly naked in front of Emma, shivering in fever sweat and cold bathroom air.

Somehow, after everything, this was the most vulnerable he had felt around Emma. Not when he had been arrested. Not when he was throwing up while she sat with him. Not when he was telling the story of his past to her. This was raw. Maybe it was because this moment was the summation of all the vulnerabilities of before. Now, standing in just his red boxer briefs, Emma could see the wastage that had happened to his body because of everything. It was a visual reminder of years of self-inflicted damage.

"You waiting for me to take a picture?" she quipped, eyebrow climbing unimpressed, when Killian didn't immediately get in the tub.

"I can autograph it if you want afterwards." Killian appreciated that she didn't look shocked to see his body. There was a tinge of colour to the tops of her cheekbones, maybe a touch of something darkening her emerald eyes, but other than that she looked unaffected. Emma Swan was a good actor and Killian appreciated that.

"Just get in the damn tub before it gets colder," Emma answered but there was no teeth behind her words.

"As the lady wishes." Raising onto one trembling leg, Killian lowered the other into the tub. "Bloody buggering fuck," he shouted as his leg dipped into the ankle, pulling back too quickly and losing his balance. The only thing that stopped him from tumbling to the tile floor was Emma's hands under his armpits, yanking him upwards.

Panting, they stood in the bathroom, Emma's hands now on his chest, fingertips just grazing the gnarl of black chest hair covering the expanse of skin. Neither seemed aware enough of the situation to flinch backwards. Or they didn't want to. Emma seemed lost, staring at her hands against his nearly naked body. Killian couldn't look away. Not when the flush had deepened across her cheeks. Not when her lips had parted just the smallest amount, a soft puff of air hitting his chest every time she exhaled. Not when she smelled like cinnamon and vanilla, all warm and spicy. Not when it felt like the fever chill was gone where she touched him, skin burning like an inferno. Too much. Too much. _Too damn much._

"Emma," Killian whispered, no more than a breath. That seemed to snap her out of her daze, pulling back without looking him in the eye.

"You're going in the tub, Jones. I'll hold you in there if I have to." And with that she was back to business. Moment gone. They had been so close. Killian had been so close to the woman that had been haunting his thoughts and driving his waking hours. So close to her lips.

 _Bloody buggering fuck, what a wasted moment, Jones._

"No need to hold me in, lass. I'm prepared now."

"Better be," Emma huffed beside him. Despite his words, she still didn't sit back down on the toilet seat until Killian had settled in the cool water.

Teeth chattering and body shaking, Killian fought to remain in the water. Fists clenching and opening repeatedly, toes curled. Water splashed up the wall of the tub as his body moved across the white plastic. The water was freezing.

"Why did you make it so cold?" Killian chattered out, staring at the showerhead neck muscles too tight to turn and see Emma.

"It's honestly not that cold," Emma replied, sounding apologetic. "It's the fever. I swear the water is lukewarm. Everything seems cold to you because your body's so hot. But I need to get the fever down." Killian didn't respond, body shivering in the water. After a long moment of no noise other than the clacking of teeth, Emma whispered out an, "I'm sorry."

Now Killian did force himself to turn to her, curling his chest inwards as his shoulders turned. Emma chewed on her lip, eyes wide with worry. "It's not your fault, Emma."

"I should have stayed home from work. I could have done more earlier and then your fever wouldn't need to be broken like this." Emma's shoulders slumped at the admittance. She was obviously feeling guilty about the whole situation and it made Killian's chest clench to see someone care so much about him. Killian wanted to get out of the freezing ice bath and wrap his arms around her. Hold her until they were both feeling better.

"Emma, you need to work. The only person at fault is myself. You've done everything you could to make sure I recover and it's because of you that I'm still sober three days into this."

Emma didn't believe him if the way she wouldn't look at him was any indication. It was like she was curling into herself. Crumbling down from that strong woman she normally was and in place was the child she'd fought to build up. Watching him in the water had taken Emma back. Back to the little girl who had to call 911 on alcoholic foster parents because she didn't know what to do. The girl she was trying to vindicate.

Killian couldn't let her think that she had failed. Because she hadn't. Three days in might not sound like a lot to someone existing outside the little bubble they had built but it was. It was three days of nausea, tremors, mood swings, destruction and addiction. It was three days sober. The longest Killian had gone since Liam's death three years prior. And it wasn't because Killian was somehow a stronger person immediately. Killian may have chosen to try for recovery but the process of starting wouldn't have happened without a catalyst, and it wouldn't have survived the hallucinations of the second day without a firm and determined no. Recovery wasn't a one-person job. It was work and support. It was Emma. But words wouldn't solve her confidence issue. That much was clear by the way she had responded to his argument. From what Killian knew of Emma she wasn't one for words but instead for actions. Like the takeout he had ordered. It was the little things to bridge the chasm between them. Emma would need to get through the process just as Killian needed to. She'd need to see the end of the withdrawal before she believed she was any different than she was as an eleven-year-old.

But even though it was clear she would need to wait it out as well and this was not a process to rush, it didn't mean that Killian's heart wasn't breaking to see her so easily believe she had failed. There had to be something he could do to at least distract her. Killian wanted to see that smile again, hear the snark. Not see the defeat.

There were few things Killian knew he could do well. Sailing was one. Picking out the difference between Pepsi and Cola with one sip was another. But he was best known for something else. Something that would serve as a distraction, if only because it would be absurd for him to start singing in the tub with his teeth chattering and wearing only boxer briefs while a very sad woman sat on the toilet beside him.

Killian started to hum, the sound a bit distorted as he tried not to let his teeth continue their role play of jack hammers and the low lilting music bounced off the bathroom walls.

"What are you doing?" Emma asked, finally looking up from her knees. The sadness pulled down her features and clouded her eyes but there was the hint of interest breaking through.

"Singing," Killian replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "I'm trying to distract myself from the cold." A little lie but some collateral distraction would not go unwanted.

"Oh," Emma answered, sounding surprised, before nodding. "Okay. What are you singing?" Killian had to fight the triumphant grin. The ghosts haunting Emma hadn't left yet but he'd caught her attention.

 _Come on, Jones. Think of something good._

"One that the public's never heard me sing." _Great answer, wanker. What are you gonna sing to her,_ Like a Virgin _?_

"It's not on your albums?"

Killian quirked an eyebrow at that. Emma knew his music? "Oh, so you _have_ heard of me?"

Emma rolled her eyes and Killian bit back a whoop of success as she shed sadness like a snake crawling from an old skin. "I needed to make sure you were legit after we met."

"And did you like what you heard?"

"Maybe," Emma answered with a noncommittal shrug. "You were singing?"

"Aye," Killian answered, hit by a wave of nostalgia. The little prod Emma had made about singing reminded him of all the times Liam had tried to make him practice as a lad. Killian had always been easily distracted, pulled away from the music in the middle of a song in the years before he really learned to appreciate music as the catharsis, the life, that it was. Killian knew the song he was going to sing. A song from that time in his life. From his Irish mother. One Liam always said she'd sung to Killian as he lay in his bassinet.

 _"Outside the rain's softly fallin',  
In the distance I can hear a foghorn sound;  
I pull my blanket just a little closer,  
My mind's on a ship that's outward bound."_

Emma watched him closely, hanging on the words. To his trained ear the sound was off. Voice rough and quiet as the fight against the chattering teeth consumed a lot of his mouth muscles. The sound bounced back funny, like what happened if his earpiece was off sync on stage, but then again, a tub was a poor concert venue. But Emma didn't seem to care. And if she didn't, Killian really couldn't find it in himself to care either.

 _"On a voyage through a memory, sailin' on a silver sea,  
The moon and stars above now brightly shine;  
The wind that fills the sail is a lullaby that tells the tale,  
Of all the things that I was glad to leave behind._

 _The ocean has always been a part of me,  
I could feel the saltwater runnin' through my veins;  
I think of all the places where my ship will take me,  
But the thought of your gentle whisper leaves me strained."_

Somewhere towards the end of the second verse Emma had closed her eyes, lips twitching into a smile as she listened to the song fold around them. It was a peaceful little look. Warmth spread through Killian's body. If he could make Emma smile like that with such a simple thing, he would never, _ever_ stop singing.

 _"_ _But as I rise, look out my window,  
A wall of grey right before my eyes;  
And the sea it comes where time is slowly ticking,  
How I wish that I could make my life feel fine._

On a voyage through a memory, sailin' on a silver sea, _  
_ _The moon and stars above now brightly shine;_ _  
_ _The wind that fills the sail is a lullaby that tells the tale,_ _  
_ _Of all the things that I was glad to leave behind."_

Killian hadn't ever believed Liam when he would tell him that learning the classic folk songs of his culture would come in handy, especially when Killian had found his musical calling in soft rock. After that it had been all covers of Bryan Adams, Eric Clapton and The Eagles as Killian and the band tried to get exposure, playing seedy bars and street corners at festivals. After the label had signed Neverland's Lost Pirates life became writing songs and finding a unique sound that got a bit edgier while still maintaining the fanciful lyrics in line with the name of the band, a juxtaposition the public loved. Killian had kept that sound, albeit much darker, as a solo artist. But now, watching Emma, eyes still closed, shoulders relaxed, smile tentative but growing, he wasn't sure why he'd ever given up on his musical roots. __

"On a voyage through a memory, sailin' on a silver sea, _  
_ _The moon and stars above now brightly shine;_ _  
_ _The wind that fills the sail is a lullaby that tells the tale,_ _  
_ _Of all the things that I was glad to leave behind._ __

 _Yes, the wind that fills the sail is a lullaby that tells the tale,_ _  
_ _Of all the things that I was glad to leave behind."_

Killian brought the song to a close and the silence fell on the room. Real silence since his teeth had stopped chattering somewhere during the song. Water no longer lapped along the edges of the tub as his body fought a war against the fever, the shivers becoming far less violent. Even the water didn't feel as icy. After a few more moments of quiet Emma opened her eyes, looking a bit like she was rising out the of water herself.

"You need to put that on your next album," Emma practically gasped, voice soft, as if she were scared to ruin the moment.

Killian raised a brow. "It's just a cover, lass. That was Silver Sea by The Masterless Men."

"So?" Emma responded. "It's just, you sung it like it really meant something, like the lyrics were real to you."

Killian was a bit stunned by her answer. But her words were true. The song not only held importance because it had been his mother's chosen lullaby and one Liam had made him practice it over and over, but now that he was older, hurt and haunted by memories, the lyrics were different. A song of running. A song of memories. A song of whispers that haunted, like those of Liam and the water that had taken him away. A song of leaving the bad behind.

"If you think I should that much then okay. I'll see what we can do about copyright to get it on the album." Killian tried to sound non-committal for fear of disappointing her if the record label couldn't get the song cleared and he would be one more person to lie to her but the light tone covered one of determination. Killian would get that song cleared if the record label wanted him to stay with them for future work. And when he did, the only thing the liner notes would say would be: _For Emma._

Emma grinned at him, all the earlier sadness and memories gone. "I'll be the first to buy it."

"Even though you don't have time for _that kind of shit_?" Killian asked with a matching grin, bringing up the words of their first meeting.

Emma rolled her eyes. "You sang it first in my bath tub. I kind of have to make time now."

"Maybe I should sing my entire new album here then if that's how I can get you to listen."

"You couldn't afford my studio fee." Emma leaned forward and brushed her hand across his forehead. Her touch was soft, caring, enough to make him want to grab a hold of it and never let go. "You're still warm but your temperature's way down," Emma stated, a bit of pride colouring her voice. Killian knew it wasn't pride directed at his body's ability to regulate itself. It was pride towards herself because she had stayed, not panicked, had made the right call. Killian was proud of her too, not that he'd say that right then in fear of making her bristle away from him and their moment.

"Does that mean I can get out now?" Killian asked instead of voicing his thoughts.

Emma nodded, standing. She offered her hands and Killian took hold, squeezing tight as she pulled and he struggled to stand on numb legs. When Killian was upright a blush started climbing up Emma's cheeks.

"Oh, um," she stuttered out, eyes trailing down his dripping body. Right to where his underwear had clung to his body, showing the dip of his hip bones and the thick ridge of his most favourite appendage. "I'll just go get you a towel. Don't fall." Emma released his hands as if they had burned her, hurrying to the linen closet by the bathroom door. Killian couldn't find it in himself to be embarrassed because the image of his private body parts had clearly affected her in the good way. It didn't seem to be an unwanted image if the way her eyes were blown wide and continually flicking to the area in quick motions he wasn't supposed to notice were any indication. Maybe someday Killian would get the chance to see that look when she wasn't trying to be secretive. Maybe he would get to see it again with her hair mussed as she lay back against his pillow. Killian took the offered towel when Emma returned, quickly covering up as that favourite appendage flicked to life against his thigh. If Emma saw that and figured out his train of thought, that careful way he was trying to get her to allow something more to happen between them would be destroyed.

Once he was covered up Emma seemed much more at ease. "I'll get you a clean shirt and boxers, okay? And then I'll leave you in here to get changed." Before Killian could respond Emma had left in search of the clothing she'd bought him, returning with them under her arm. "Don't fall," she cautioned before setting down the clothing, stepping out of the bathroom and closing the door behind her.

 _Don't fall?_ Standing in the bathroom Killian knew that advice was utter bollocks. Because he was already falling, hard and fast, for the one and only Emma Swan.


	16. Night Nursing

_A/N:_ Sorry this is going up so late. I decided that the chapter I was going to put up today wasn't right. It will still go up but it was too soon for that. When I wrote it I skipped the last two days of the detox and I realized last night that that was a cop out for you guys. So I'm going back and writing a few more chapters. There will be at least one more before I'm back to the prewritten ones. So you'll have to wait a little longer for the angsty chapter, or at least the more angsty chapter. Thank you so much for all the support you've given me on this story. It means so much to me. Let me know what you think of this one! Enjoy!

Warning: This chapter mentions alcohol abuse.

Disclaimer: All aspects of Once Upon A Time belong to ABC and the show's creators.

Emma panted as if she were the one detoxing as she leaned on the kitchen counter. Killian, nearly naked against her. Killian's obvious bulge, even after sitting in cold water for at least a half an hour. Killian, so, so close to her. And oh, how she had wanted that. Heat curled low in her belly and for once she wanted to allow herself to act on it. But even with the little moments between them she couldn't let herself wish for it. Killian couldn't feel anything more than a mild attraction enough to flirt. Not enough to stay. Never to stay. At least not with her.

And the singing. _Singing._ As if it were nothing. As if he weren't laying his soul bare with that old folk song to distract her. Because she knew what he'd been doing. She was a cop after all, and a damn good one despite what the heads might think of her. She knew he'd drawn the conclusions between her story of calling 911 and the panic she'd felt watching him shiver and shake, the potential complications of a fever getting too high running through her head. Even though Emma could have seen the song as a distraction from a mile off, that melody and the soft lilting voice, a bit shaky and lacking any power from his body's lack of strength, had pulled her in. Deep. She could have listened to Killian sing for hours. Part of her wished he'd start singing for her again because she'd never be brave enough to ask for it.

The bathroom door opened and Emma looked up, trying to hide her distress. Killian teetered out, a little unsteady on his feet, carefully picking his way to the couch. Killian glanced at her and offered a concerned little tip of the mouth.

"You okay?" he asked, settling gingerly on the couch, muscles straining at the effort to go slowly. Emma pushed off the counter and hurried to help him so he didn't flop down and hurt himself. When she reached him, helping to lower his broken body down onto the sofa he gave a little resigned sigh but leaned against her anyways. His body was still warm and a bit damp against her but the fever chills had lessened so it didn't feel like she was trying to hold a jackhammer anymore.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Emma answered when they'd gotten him settled, brushing off the concern. Emma had had a long time to get over those memories and it embarrassed her that she'd let them show. "What about you?" She pressed her hand against the man's forehead, cringing a little at the warmth that still radiated off it.

"A bit better now that I'm not in the Artic Ocean."

Emma rolled her eyes, appreciating the levity. "Always so dramatic." She pushed herself off the arm of the couch and moved to the kitchen, rooting through the fridge. Killian hadn't eaten since breakfast. With all the sweating he was probably incredibly dehydrated as well. She needed to get that fixed before anything.

"Sleepy too."

Emma nodded, continuing to move through the liquids in the fridge, reading the back to check which had the highest calorie and vitamin counts. The highest calorie count she had left was one made of yams, apples, lime, ginger, carrot and cinnamon. Seemed pretty gross to Emma but the bottle said that it was good for liver detox and energy so she was making him drink it. Even if she had to pour it down his throat. "You need to get something into your system first before you sleep. You pretty much over-taxed your system today."

Emma grabbed the juice and the abandoned sandwich and carried them over to Killian, settling beside him no the couch. She unwrapped the plate and opened the bottle and waited. Killian glanced over at her with a pained expression.

"First ice bath now liquefied Thanksgiving?"

"Aren't you lucky?" Emma responded dryly, leaning back.

Killian mumbled something that sounded like _damn right_ but Emma didn't trust herself that that was what she heard when his voice was muffled by a gulp of the juice. "I'm honestly not hungry."

"That's your body trying to figure it's shit out. You've been feverish all day. Anything else while I was gone?" Emma watched him attempt to nibble at the sandwich from the corner of her eye as she turned on the television.

"A bit of nausea. Anxiety. Shaky. You know."

"The usual?"

Killian gave a snort. "It's hard to remember a time when this wasn't the usual and it's only been three days."

"But do you regret it?" Emma didn't know why asking that question shot anxiety through her.

 _Maybe because you're asking if he regrets you?_

 _Fuck off._ Emma pushed the thoughts away angrily. Why did she care so damn much what he thought? Emma usually tried her best to brush everyone off, never care, or find out, what others thought of her, because they were all like those dicks at the police station. Why did she care if Killian thought she was a good person instead of a foster-system reject, a charity case, a dirty cop? Why did it matter? She needed to get the ideas out of her head that Killian might think any different because he would leave, just like everyone else. Song or not.

But maybe that was the key? Maybe that was why she needed to know? Because if he thought she wasn't such a shit show of a person he might stick around. Come back for coffee. Help her eat takeout when she ordered too much. Sing for her again.

 _Fuck Emma. Control yourself._

Killian laid a soft hand on her knee, squeezing a bit. "I don't regret it. Not one bit. You've given me the best gift anyone ever could in helping me get sober. And I especially don't regret this process because it involves you."

Emma squeezed her lips together tightly, giving him a thin smile. The words she'd wanted to hear. Not exactly but close enough. Another chink in her wall, the bricks falling away at a faster rate than her little army of emotionless stonemasons could repair them. She'd never thought she'd see the day her walls were outwitted by a fevered rock star.

Emma gave her head a little shake and turned her attention fully on Killian. "Come on, half a sandwich, okay?"

"And the whole juice?"

"Damn right," Emma answered, pleased the conversation was going somewhere distinctly less emotional. She'd had enough rockiness for one day. She just wanted a few moments to breath outside of the constricting fear that coursed through her every time she felt a hole break through her walls. "You've sweated out so much water today. It's not good for your system to be dehydrated, especially with how damaged your liver may be."

A muscle in Killian's jaw worked for a moment before he took a long sip of the juice. "Do you think I've done permanent damage?" Killian's voice was rocky. Emma heard it for what it was. Fear.

She shrugged, laying her hand tentatively on Killian's, the one that still rested on her knee. "I don't know. Maybe. Probably not anything too significant or Victor would have said something, right? Once this process is over you probably should go to the doctor and get a full physical, just to make sure there's no lasting damage and everything's okay, but don't let that keep you up at night. You're still young. You were really healthy before. It's only been a few years."

"But what if I have? What if I've shot my organs?" Killian sounded disgusted with himself, spitting the words out as he considered the possibility of the damage he had done, potentially for the first time.

"There are medications that can help," Emma answered calmly, sensing the rise in Killian's anxiety levels just through the way his tendons cramped up in his hand. She needed to get up and get his anti-anxiety pill. Maybe that would help. She started to push off the sofa but Killian held her down with a desperate claw to her hand.

"I just wanted all the pain to stop but what if in stopping it I've caused myself more?"

Emma shifted so she was facing him. Colour was climbing Killian's pale face as his eyes grew wide. She laid a hand on his shoulder. The face was one she vaguely recognized from the day he'd had the panic attack and she was determined not to have him go through that again.

"Killian," she started, very slowly, squeezing his shoulder muscles with each syllable, hoping to distract him enough that he calmed. "You are young. Your organs were in good shape before this. They can handle a lot. You're not doing too badly on the detox and Victor really isn't concerned. We can call him if you want." Killian shook his head when she paused for an answer. "And anyways, if, _if,_ there is damage, it more than likely won't show up for years, when your organs aren't as good at regenerating and healing themselves anymore. You'll be done touring and doing the rock star thing by then. And anyways, look at Keith Richards, he's still kicking and I think Heinz Pickles modeled their brine recipe after his blood content."

Killian snorted a little, a tiny smile curving up the edges of his lips. "I definitely don't have the following to tour as long as Keith."

"So there, if something ever happens you can retire to a nice seaside town and hire a hot nurse to take care of you."

"Bit like I've done now?"

Did he just call her hot?

Wait.

 _Shit._

Killian thought she was hot.

"You didn't hire me, dumbass," Emma answered, pulling her hand from his shoulder and standing. "I volunteered." She covered her discomfort at Killian thinking she was attractive by going to get his pills, rattling the bottle loudly. Emma knew she was attractive. Men had told her before. She had a mirror. But when Killian said it, well, Killian could have any woman in the world and he still thought she was hot. Still thought she was attractive enough to mention it. Killian was Killian and Emma was, well, _Emma._ She may be attractive but how could she be Killian attractive.

Killian, seeming to sense her discomfort went back to picking at the sandwich in front of him. At least he'd stopped edging closer to a panic attack. Emma would count that as a success, despite her discomfort. Of course, it seemed that Emma was always uncomfortable when something came up that made her think people saw her as better than she was.

It took an hour after Killian had swallowed down his anti-anxiety medication and multivitamin for him to finish the half a sandwich and drink the juice. By the end of it, Emma was nearly handfeeding him chunks of tuna and celery sandwich. Emma knew Killian hated it, even if he'd gone silent, exhaustion hanging heavy on his chest. But she really didn't have much of a choice. An egg and half a tuna sandwich in a whole day wasn't enough to keep a bird alive, let alone a recovering alcoholic.

Day three fucking sucked. Of that, Emma was certain. She just hoped day four would be better.

When Killian had chewed the last chunk of the sandwich half Emma took the plate from his hands. Killian gave a relieved sigh and slumped down against the arm of the sofa. Emma stood and took the plate back to the kitchen, giving Killian the chance to stretch out.

When Emma returned to the sofa Killian had his head on his pillow and eyes closed. Emma pulled the blanket from it's spot on the floor with plans to spread the crumpled fabric over him. It was still a bit damp in parts from fever sweat and had a vague smell to it. She'd need to wash it in the morning and it definitely wasn't sanitary to put on him then.

It was the only blanket she had that was extra. The only blanket that wasn't on her bed. Maybe she should have taken Mary Margaret up on that offer to go to Bed Bath and Beyond last year and get extra supplies. She couldn't leave Killian without a blanket, not with the mild fever still freezing him. She sighed and moved into her bedroom. Emma grabbed her own duvet, tugging the edges out from under the mattress and dragged it back to the living room. She spread it over Killian and he sighed again, burying his nose deep into the fabric even though her seemed sound asleep.

Emma frowned a bit in confusion before brushing a hand over Killian's forehead. Still hot, maybe at a 100-degree fever level which, though significantly lower than earlier, still needed to come down. Emma heaved a sigh of her own, moving to the closet for a fresh facecloth, wetting it under the sink. She was going to be in for a long night.

Killian's fever broke completely sometime around two in the morning that night with a steady application of cool cloths to his forehead and lots of fluids. She woke him up every half an hour to coax some more water into him, a few sips here, a whole glass there. Always holding his head up and his glass to his lips. Always wiping away, the drops that escaped with the edge of her thumb, the gun roughened callouses brushing over his mild stubble.

It wasn't until he was back to a normal temperature and sleeping on the couch that Emma allowed herself the chance to breathe and slump her shoulders. She was exhausted after working the entire day and then caring for Killian the whole night. Emma checked Killian's forehead once more before trudging into her bedroom. Even with nothing but her cotton sheet on the bed, she was asleep in moments.

A bloodcurdling scream woke her up. Emma rolled out of bed in her shock, hitting the hard floor before automatically reaching for her gun that always sat on her bedside table at night. The scream sounded again and Emma sprang to her feet, knees protesting after the slam they'd had and sprinted into the living room, expecting to see some kind of monster eating children at her counter or something equally nightmare inducing.

Instead the screams were coming from Killian as he thrashed around on the sofa, teetering close to the edge of the cushions. Killian's face was a mask of absolute horror, eyes moving rapidly, jaw tight. The duvet was kicked off the sofa and in a pile on the floor, the pillow nearby after slipping from the leather cushions under all the commotion. _Night terrors._ Emma had read that this could be a possible symptom during the DT stage they were currently in. The screams tore through her, heartbreaking in their terror. Emma set her gun on the tv stand and hurried over, catching Killian just as he was about to roll of the couch.

She grunted at the weight shifting into her arms, especially now that was still screaming, and pushed him back on the sofa. She squatted down beside him and shook his shoulder forcefully. Killian screamed once more before his mouth snapped shut and his eyes flew open.

The next thing Emma knew she was being pushed past as Killian rushed on shaky legs to the bathroom. A moment later there was the sound of retching as Killian began to vomit. Emma hurried after him, letting herself into the bathroom and moving to stand behind Killian as he crouched low over the toilet. Killian heaved what little there was left in his stomach into the bowl then continued to give a few body shaking dry heaves. A few moments later Killian pushed himself up, giving a rocky breath and wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. Emma flushed the toilet and offered him the space to move to the sink to rince his mouth.

"Emma?" Killian asked when he'd finished cleaning himself up. "What happened?"

She shrugged a bit. "You were screaming. Night terrors. I guess with all the shit your body went through today, all the thrashing around you just did and being nauseous anyways, the whole thing just came to a head right then." Emma motioned to the toilet with another shrug. "You okay to move back to the sofa now?"

"Yeah, I'm okay." Killian allowed Emma to take his arm and lead him back to the sofa. Killian laid down on the leather cushions and Emma squatted down beside him before he said anything. "Sorry I woke you up. What time is it?"

Emma glanced at the numbers flashing on her oven. "4:02 in the morning." She'd been asleep less than two hours before getting the abrupt wakeup call. She sunk off her haunches until she was on her behind on the floor, twisted so she could look at Killian's pale face. Emma was exhausted, the weight of her sleep deprivation settling heavy in her bones as the adrenaline of the situation wore off.

"I'm sorry," Killian replied quietly. "I don't really remember the dreams. Just being scared."

Emma nodded, using the movement to further hide a yawn she attempted to stifle. "That's normal. Most people don't remember them since they aren't like nightmares. The vomiting afterwards is probably a detoxing body thing rather than a night terror thing."

"Oh." Killian closed his eyes, a look on embarrassment colouring his features, even visible in the dark. "I'm sorry I woke you."

"It's fine," Emma reassured quickly. "You should try to go back to sleep though. You've only had about an hour and a half to sleep solidly since the fever broke and then your muscles will be strained from what just happened."

Killian gave her a puzzled look and opened his mouth. Emma shook her head. She knew he was going to say something about her staying up to care for him and then being woken up again when she worked the next day, though thankfully the night shift. Emma stood and gathered the duvet, which she also ignored Killian's reaction to, and settled it on him then handed him the pillow.

"So, do you think you can go back to sleep?" Emma asked, squatting down by his head again. "I can get you some more anti-nausea pills if you need them." There was still that lingering look of fear in his eyes that had gotten a little brighter as he had become more aware of the situation.

Killian shrugged, the blanket rustling against him. "I think the nausea passed with that." Killian motioned to the bathroom. "And probably. If not, I'll sleep during the day. You should go back to bed. I'll be fine."

Emma shook her head. She wasn't doing that. She saw the fear in Killian's eyes. She knew what it was like to be left alone after nightmares, which, while different, was still not something she would do to Killian. She knew what it was like to stare at the walls while her eyes burned for fear of closing them to see something more terrifying. She knew what it was like to wake to her body knotted into the sheets and realize she was trapped in them and then, once freed, still trapped in the lonely prison that was the darkness after a nightmare. She knew what it was like to have no one to soothe her afterwards or to be shouted at for waking up the whole dormitory and kicked out of the room to sleep on the floor with her blanket and pillow. Emma shoved the memories back into their box. She didn't have the energy to deal with them that night. "You need to sleep. Especially after today." Emma sat again, turning her back so it rested against the sofa, her head next to Killian's, lolling backwards a little on the leather cushions.

"Emma, really, I'm okay, lass. I can keep myself company and I don't think I'll throw up again."

Emma shook her head. "I'll stay with you for a while. It's okay. You can sleep. I'll be right here."

Killian shuffled a bit behind her. Emma waited to see if he would protest. Instead, after a heavy pause he moved so his hand was resting against her shoulder, just to the side of the junction with her neck. Emma nearly jumped at the contact but didn't pull away. Killian was seeking contact and reassurance and Emma could give him her shoulder for that.

"Sleep, Killian," Emma murmured. "You're safe in this apartment."

Emma sat, watching the lights of Queens flash through her gauzy curtains as she listened to Killian's breathing. Eventually it settled into a steady pace and soon even Emma felt herself being lulled to sleep.


	17. Burden

_A/N:_ Sorry this is late Monday night again. I had to write this one and it took a while since I was busy all day with my publication and work. But this is the last one I've got to write for a while so the next one will come earlier in the day (at least I hope). Because it's so late the editing is a bit shaky so I hope it's okay. If you follow me on Tumblr you know yesterday was a bit of a bad day but had a very happy ending so in my opinion this chapter is one of the lighter ones and that reflects my mood. Keep an eye out too for a one-shot coming based on the Olympics and inspired by a prompt I saw on Tumblr. That may come tomorrow if I have time. Thanks for all your support and for those on Tumblr who sent me lovely messages yesterday and lately as I've been struggling. The battle isn't over but it's getting better (*knock on wood*). So thanks. Let me know what you think of this chapter. Enjoy!

Warning: This chapter contains mentions of alcohol abuse.

Disclaimer: All aspects of Once Upon A Time belong to ABC and the show's creators.

Killian woke as the early morning light started to filter through the old, slightly torn blinds covering the window. It wasn't a noise or a dream that woke him this time. It was the urge to pee. Not surprisingly considering he'd drank the amount of water contained in all of the Great Lakes combined the previous night at Emma's request.

Killian sat up slowly, his insides sloshing around. It was too early to be awake, especially when his arms and legs felt like cement, heavy with exhaustion as he moved. His eyelids felt crusty with sleep, trying to pull him back under. It would certainly do so soon, just as soon as he relieved the uncomfortable pressure. At this point, he'd be lucky if he didn't fall asleep in the bathroom. How was he supposed to do anything, get anything done, when he was constantly in this half-dead state?

On the brighter side, the nausea seemed to be gone, at least for now. It was a relief not to feel like he was constantly walking on shaking ground that was just biding its time before it pitched him into another loop. It still wasn't enough though to take away that dread that set heavy in his chest every time he woke without the ambition, the ability to do what Regina needed him to do. What he had said to Emma a few days prior about being scared of losing his record deal was a real truth. A terrifying truth.

Killian didn't know who he was without his music. He had no idea how he was supposed to exist without his music. And right now, he couldn't play. Not when his fingers lacked the strength to hold the strings tight to the neck of his guitar in the needed chords. Not when they wouldn't move across his piano keys because they shook too much to find the keys in the right order. Alcohol had been taking away his life but this attempt at sobriety was taking away his music and he didn't know what was worse. At least drunk he could still play his guitar, couldn't write but it was still something.

Killian just needed something.

And there was a very real possibility of losing everything if he couldn't play or write music anymore.

It would kill him.

And all this pain would be for nothing.

This constantly being sick was draining him. This constant hovering on the line of giving up because it was just _too damn hard._ He was tired of feeling like absolute shit. Tired of having to fight all over again when he woke up because all the feelings, the needs, the pain just wouldn't go away. Tired of not finding the peace that was all he wanted. The shelter from the memories and the addiction. Emma was a balm on his weary soul but even with her presence, that bent and broken and burned soul was still ever present. He was barely staying above water. Killian just wanted it all to stop.

At least when he was constantly drunk the pain of life was blurred.

Now everything just felt clouded as if his brain was no longer in his head.

Just as he went to stand his eyes caught the blonde head lolling to the side against the edge of the leather sofa cushion. Emma. Asleep on the floor with no blanket, a tiny grimace on her face from the uncomfortable position. Even with that expression she was gorgeous. A hardened, wary angel that had decided somehow that he was worth enough to try and save.

The previous night came filtering back through the hazy that filled his brain. The night terror, no memories of what, just the feeling afterwards. The terror that had been so strong it brought up his supper. Emma's hand on his shoulder pulling him from the fear. And then staying, doing what he wanted to ask but couldn't because it was just too much. Somehow she had just known. Killian had laid there, her smell in his nose, for a few moments while he convinced himself to reach out and touch her. Somehow he knew if he could just feel her it would ground him, help him completely ease out of the terror that had gripped him. So eventually he did. He touched her, let his hand rest just against her warm skin while the soft tendrils of her blonde hair brushed across his knuckles.

And it had been wonderful. Every touch he'd had since this process had started was a bright mark in the darkness, a ray of blinding light through the clouds that filled his aching mind. He could count every single one of them because they were so sweet.

Killian wouldn't have been able to get as far as he had without Emma and her soft yet harsh at the same time approach to caring. Killian would have faltered that very first day when the cravings were enough to press him into the ground as he cowered in front of the toilet. Yes, Killian, deep down, desperately wanted to get sober, but there was only so far he could go alone. The withdrawal process wasn't a one-person game, it just couldn't be. And Killian couldn't have asked for a better person to guide him through this process than the woman currently sleeping on the floor beside him.

Killian eased himself up slowly, quietly, trying not to wake her. Sliding off the sofa, Killian squatted beside her. Emma couldn't keep sleeping on the floor, especially since he'd already woken her up through the night with his screaming. The two of them hadn't settled into sleep either before two in the morning because of the fever. Emma maybe had four hours sleep under her belt and two of them were on hardwood floor. That wasn't what Emma had signed up for. It wasn't fair for her. Especially since she had a night shift that night. She was working a full time job caring for him and a whole other one at the police station. No wonder she had the dark circles smudged under her eyes. Emma needed to go back to her bed, with her blanket again. She needed her sleep so she could keep going. Killian wouldn't be the reason she burned out.

Killian chewed his lip as he decided what to do. Killian _wanted_ to just pick her up, cradle her against his chest and carry her to her bedroom. Killian _wanted_ to make sure she got as much rest as possible and not disturb her. But Killian couldn't do what he wanted.

Alcohol had taken his ability to do what he wanted. Even a tiny woman like Emma was too heavy for his muscles. He could barely support his own weight let alone carry Emma to her bedroom. Killian used to help carry his equipment into venues, too scared to let the variety of roadies deal with his beloved guitar and old mic. But now he didn't carry anything save for his earpiece because his arms had wasted away as he was on the fast track to complete body destruction.

And withdrawal had taken his ability to push through his body's weakness. Killian would do anything for Emma. Killian would have forced himself to hold tight to her and make the twenty feet to her bedroom. But now he shook too much. It wasn't safe. Killian wouldn't risk Emma's safety just so he could feel as if he could care for her.

Because that's what he wanted. He wanted to be able to give back as much as she had given him. Which probably wasn't going to be possible but he wanted to try. He wanted to be able to lift her and hold her and have her safe in his arms. But at this point Killian couldn't have what he wanted. It was his fault and that hurt. Because there was no one to blame in his inability to do as he wished with his body than himself.

Swallowing his pride Killian reached forward and shook Emma's shoulder gently. She rose quickly, immediately alert, eyes wide. This was surprising considering Emma seemed very much not like a morning person, always moving slow after she woke up and quiet until her first coffee was into her. Was that alertness upon a forced wakeup a holdover from her rough childhood? A safety feature to get her up and prepared should anyone touch her at night or when she wasn't expecting it? Right before Killian's eyes, that slightly panicked look faded out as she understood who had woken her up. Yes, Killian was pretty certain the rapid alertness was due to living in strange foster homes her whole life. How had she learned that? Had something happened to her? Or nearly happened to her? It would have had to be serious enough for it to develop into a habit that lasted this long. The thought made Killian irrationally angry.

"What's wrong?" Emma asked, sitting up and trying to subtly wipe drool from her cheek before he saw. Killian smiled back at her, relishing in that tiny look of vulnerability and softness she'd just allowed after her survival mechanisms had appeared. Emma's ability to keep going despite all the shit of her life astounded Killian.

And inspired him, even though he couldn't tell her that because it would be too much for her. Killian was slowly, with many stumbles, learning what Emma could handle. And saying she was an inspiration so outright when she herself believed she was shit, would push her away. Maybe if he ever got his music back he'd write a song to tell her how astounded he was of her resilience.

"Nothing's wrong, lass. It's seven in the morning. I just got up to use the bathroom and saw you still on the floor." Emma looked down, blushing slightly. Obviously she hadn't been planning on being caught staying with him. That warmed Killian, the knowledge that Emma was doing things to make sure he stayed comfortable, even if he wasn't supposed to know. "You should go back to bed. I'm okay, no more dreams. Go sleep for a few more hours."

"Are you sure?" Emma asked dubiously, checking him over. Killian nodded, trying to clench his fingers out of her sight so she wouldn't see the tremors.

"Yeah. Come on, Emma. You need your rest. I'll wake you if I need you."

Emma sighed and then nodded. "This floor is pretty hard." Killian bit back a comment which would not be appreciated. Just because he was learning what Emma could handle didn't mean that he didn't still have the thoughts. A defense mechanism wasn't easy to shake, Emma's own wake up fears proved that. Killian wanted nothing more at that moment to help Emma shake hers so she felt safe always, never afraid waking up that someone or something would hurt her but instead knowing she was safe in his arms.

Killian shook the thought away and pushed himself up. Emma wasn't even close to being ready to allow him to hold her through the night. She barely allowed him to hold her hand when he was struggling. But maybe someday. Maybe someday he could help her move through her defensive mechanisms as she was helping Killian realize that his vulgar comments were to keep himself safe and that there was more to him than that.

Emma stood with Killian and he grabbed the duvet he'd been sleeping under and followed Emma to her bedroom door. He didn't go in after her, just hovering outside the room. Emma's bedroom was just as sparse as the rest of her apartment, no decorations on the wall and just three pillows on the bed. When Emma realized Killian was still standing there she turned back to him, looking a little embarrassed that Killian had seen her Spartan room. Killian just smiled and offered her the blanket.

"Take it, Swan. I'm not shivering anymore and your apartment's a good temperature. I'll be fine." Emma studied him closely for a few moments. Just like the previous night with the dreams Emma seemed to understand what Killian needed her to do. Killian needed her to take the blanket so he could give her something back, make her more comfortable. With a tiny, sleepy smile Emma approached him at the door and Killian held the blanket out for her to take.

"Thanks. I'll see you in a few hours."

"Definitely." With a nod Killian turned from the door and Emma closed it slightly behind him.

After using the bathroom Killian returned to the couch and allowed the exhaustion that filled his arms with cement and his legs with bricks to claim him.

The rest of the day was a blur. Not only because he slept constantly but also because a fog had permeated his brain, confusing him slightly. The first time Emma woke him up around ten for breakfast it had taken him a few beats too long to remember where he was and who she was. To him she was just beautiful for a few moments. And then Emma and the memories filtered in and she was even more beautiful. Emma hadn't missed the moment of confusion and instead just gave him a Powerade to drink and a scrambled egg to eat before allowing him to sleep again. As Killian broke through the fog he noticed the worry crease Emma's face. The next time he woke up Emma just laid a blanket across his body and allowed him to sleep again because he was just too foggy to do much else. A few mumbled words at supper time as Emma coaxed him to have some pasta.

"Killian?" Emma shook his shoulder.

"Wha?" Killian mumbled, prying an eye open. It took Emma a few moments to swim into focus.

She sat watching him patiently, eyes searching his face. "Where are you?"

"Your house," Killian answered, tongue stumbling a bit over the words and making his accent rough.

"Yeah, where?" Emma answered with a nod.

"New York." Killian paused for a few moments as the exact borough floated into his mind. "Queens."

Emma gave him a smile. "Good." She nodded again, clearly pleased he remembered. "I called Victor about how you were confused. He said it was normal at this point of the DTs. You're in a pretty mild confusion. So we're okay."

"Of course we're okay," Killian mumbled back. "We're together. We're okay"

Emma chewed her lip, processing Killian's foggy and clumsy words. Trying to figure out what he actually meant. Not that Killian really understood what he was getting at except for he was trying to vocalize he was so glad he had her. And that he secretly wanted much more. Had Killian been more aware he probably would have found it in himself to be worried about her reaction. But in his state, he was just pleased that this beautiful woman was squatting in front of her. That this Emma was with him.

Eventually Emma just rolled her eyes and gave her head a little shake. Killian grinned back, a part of him in behind the fog recognizing this was a little victory.

Emma stood. "Okay, Jones, go back to sleep. I'm going to work. I'll be back in the morning."

That was all Killian needed to fall back into his slumber.

The confusion was gone by the next day, day five. The exhaustion was still there but his brain wasn't slowed as if he were swimming through jelly. It was a relief to have the fog from his brain, recognizing immediately who he was with, Emma looking down at him as he lay on the sofa. Of course he also now remembered what he'd said to Emma the previous night, looking down for a moment with a cringe. Killian recognized how lucky he was that Emma hadn't run at his little slip. Killian hadn't meant to admit that he was starting to feel that he'd be okay as long as Emma was with him, that she was giving him the strength to keep going. But he had and Emma hadn't run and in the clear brain of the morning that was a much bigger victory that he'd assumed the previous night.

"Where are you?" Emma asked, watching closely. She still wore her uniform pants, her gun clipped to her hip and her hair pulled up in a severe bun. The uniform shirt had been taken off, leaving her in a thin white t-shirt that was absolutely delicious.

"Your apartment in Queens," Killian answered immediately, pulling his eyes from Emma's form. Emma gave him a grin, satisfied that Killian was back.

"Good. I'm going to make breakfast now. Anything you want in specific?"

Killian shook his head, a stab of guilt going through him. Emma had spent the previous day working, gone on night shift after a very little, and often interrupted sleep, then come right back from work to wait on him.

Burden.

Killian was a burden to Emma Swan.

The last thing he wanted to be to her.

And this was just day five. Killian had put her through so much on the other four days. Through sitting in the bathroom as he vomited, being woken up to screaming, dealing with him shouting abuse at her and being so shaky he couldn't walk across the room alone. Emma had been through just as much as he had with no payment to herself but a bit of vindication for her younger self. That wasn't enough payment for all she had done for him.

Killian had put far too much on her.

Too much.

If he kept doing this the pride at fixing an earlier mistake that she was working towards would wear off and she'd start to resent him. And that terrified Killian. Because he couldn't lose Emma. Not after everything. Not because of him.

Killian wanted to show Emma how amazing she was.

Not convince him how terrible he was.

Killian wanted Emma to stay with him in some way after this process.

Not run far and fast away as soon as he was well enough to walk out the door.

Emma deserved someone who could care for her as well which he hadn't been able to do for the past week but wanted to do once he was better.

Killian wouldn't be a burden any more. He couldn't. He couldn't risk losing her.

The minute Killian felt better, stable enough that he wouldn't relapse, he would leave. That thought sent knives through his heart because he couldn't imagine being away from Emma. But if he wanted to keep Emma with him in the long term he would have to leave for a while. He couldn't be a burden for her and make the solitary creature that was Emma Swan run. Killian would leave for her.

Killian would leave for them.


	18. Not Good Enough

_A/N:_ I hope this lives up to expectations. I'm not sure if it does, but I hope so. Thanks for all the support, I really appreciate it and I hope this chapter gets across the emotions of the characters and why they're doing what they are.

Warning: This chapter mentions alcohol abuse.

Disclaimer: All aspects of Once Upon A Time belongs to ABC and the show's creators.

Day five was similar but a bit milder than day four of the detox, Killian staying awake long enough to watch a comedy special with her on Netflix when she got back from work, ending up with his head against her shoulder, snoring softly by the time credits started rolling. Emma had stayed on the couch for several hours longer, watching some documentary that had started automatically and she couldn't really pay attention too with Killian's breath skirting her exposed collarbone.

Emma hadn't wanted to move so for once in her life she didn't. If Killian was comfortable enough to sleep on her then she would stay. Because she wanted to. She knew the end of their time together was too close, Killian getting better every day. Soon she would have to say goodbye to the man who had become her roommate and friend, who broke down her walls and gave her a chance to explore what life was like outside her emotional castle without pressure. And funnily enough, Emma liked life outside her castle. She liked the times when she held Killian's hand. When she ran her hand across his forehead, fingers brushing away his soft black hair. When Killian sang her beautiful traditional Irish songs while sitting in cold water. When she caught him looking at her like they were more than friends.

Emma wanted so many more of those moments. She wanted moments where they watched movies and ended up having popcorn fights, the winner getting a kiss as a prize. She wanted walks along the beach and all those stupid corny movie things she used to scoff at. She wanted to hear Killian sing on stage and watch him come alive like in those old videos online. She wanted to see what that line in his wet underwear had alluded to, have that fill her and rock her to a sweet oblivion. She just wanted _more._

Emma often wanted more but rarely did she ever believe that she could have it. But the last several days with the things Killian had said, what he wanted to be for her, the touches, the smiles, the looks, it seemed possible. Emma had sworn off dating years prior but Killian Jones made her want to date again. Made her want to be open with her heart.

Emma Swan was falling head over heels for Killian Jones.

Day six was Emma's next day off work, having the day to do as she pleased before another series of evening and night shifts. She planned to sleep in, figuring Killian would not rise until she made him. Despite Killian's increase in sleeping, the nights were long. She would sit up watching him for hours into the night, eyes scanning his body when it would shake or a groan would slip from his lips, or would stay against his body as he slept on her until she was nearly sleeping herself.

Caring for Killian for the past week had been a full time job on top of the shifts she had at the station. She cooked for him, monitored fluid levels, made sure he took his various medications and acted as support person. Emma half expected herself to be annoyed at her loss of privacy and from acting as a personal servant but she liked it. She liked caring for him and having him return the affection as best as he could. Going back to being alone in the apartment, eating, watching tv and going to bed without saying a word to anyone was going to be an adjustment that Emma did not want to make.

Emma woke to the scent of onions frying on her stove and soft music filtering through her door. She stretched slowly, trying to place the smell. Had Mary Margaret barged into the apartment after finding out about Killian? Emma really hoped that wasn't the case. Especially since Killian would have been the first one who came into contact with her on the couch. One way to find out.

Emma rolled out of bed and padded out of the room, eyes scanning the space. Killian wasn't sleeping on the couch as she had expected him to. The bathroom door was wide open so he wasn't in there either. Emma finally spotted him in the kitchen and stopped mid step.

Killian Jones was standing at the stove, making breakfast. His back was to her as he moved with a spatula in hand, scraping at the onions in the pan. The music was playing from his phone beside him on the counter as he hummed lightly. He moved slowly but strongly, the tremor not visible from the distance, as he cracked several eggs and dropped them into the pan, stirring swiftly. Killian looked healthy. Emma knew he wasn't cured, wouldn't stop feeling the need to drink for a long time, but he looked like he was over the worst. It made Emma want to run back into her bedroom and pretend the morning hadn't come.

That the end of their rehab hadn't come.

Before Emma could hide and indulge in an unhealthy level of denial, Killian turned and noticed her, his face breaking into a grin at the sight of her.

"Morning, Swan," he greeted, waving her over. Emma was helpless against his beckoning hand, how happy he seemed to finally be feeling better. She shuffled across the room, sliding onto the bar stool. Once seated, Killian handed her a steaming mug of coffee. "I promise I'm not drinking the caffeine," Killian vowed, holding up a cold pressed juice made of blueberries and pomegranates in his other hand.

"You look good," Emma said, trying to smile as she held the mug between her hands. It was hard. It was like trying to smile when you needed to be brave so someone could tell you something shitty without feeling like a bad person. She used to do it in the system as a child before she realized no one actually cared what she thought, she was moving anyways. But she kept the smile for Killian because even though she didn't want him to leave, she was proud of him.

"I feel good," Killian answered. The man standing in front of her was the complete opposite from the one she'd pulled out of his boat the week prior. Killian was now clean, ratty beard shaved and long hair combed. His clothing was clean and only wrinkled a tiny bit, even if it was less stylish than before. His face was still pale but it seemed less sickly with the light that now shone from those too-blue eyes. Emma had to force herself to look away before she got lost in them or Killian noticed her train of thought.

"You didn't have to cook breakfast. You could have woken me up."

"But I wanted to," Killian answered with a timid grin. "I just wanted you to know how much I appreciate you being here for me for the last week." Killian scratched behind his ear, a bit shyly. "I know I put you through a lot. Too much." Emma didn't know what to answer, if she trusted herself not to sound vulnerable. Killian just gave her a nod and turned back to his cooking, leaving Emma feeling as if Killian had figured it all out anyways.

They were both quite for a while, Emma sipping on her coffee while Killian finished up. Up closer the tremor in his hands was more visible but he was steadier on his feet than she'd seen him, pretty much ever. Things were coming to an end for them.

Could things continue? Did Killian want things to continue? She was pretty sure he did. And was also pretty sure she did. And that was fucking terrifying. Because she was considering the possibility of dating Killian Jones, famous musician, star of many women's sex dreams. But when they were together in her apartment he wasn't all that. He was Killian Jones, bashful musician who covered his insecurities with cheap pickup lines, had a beautiful singing voice, loved Peter Pan and pirates and preferred red Powerade to fancy cold pressed juice. That was the kind of man Emma could see herself dating because that was within the realm of possibilities. _Killian Jones_ wasn't. Not when Emma was who she was.

Killian slid a plate in front of her catching her attention and stalling her spiraling thoughts. On the plate in front of her was scrambled eggs with caramelized onions and whole wheat toast. It smelled great but Emma's stomach twisted anyways.

No one other than Mary Margaret had ever made her breakfast simply because they wanted to. In her foster homes it was either a self-serve or made for her because they needed to keep her alive to keep the cheques coming and didn't trust her not to take too much food. When she was with Neal they didn't have a kitchen to make anything, unless they wanted to heat something up on the Bug's old radiator. The breakfast Killian had made her might be a lot simpler than what Mary Margaret made on the regular but it was done without any prompting or expectations. It was made for her because he cared.

Like _properly_ cared.

And now the silly man was looking at her like a puppy wanting to know he'd done a good job, all proud yet bashful. Emma picked up the fork balanced on the edge of the plate and brought some eggs to her lips, blowing on them slightly, before passing the food through parted lips. There was no way she imagined the quiet groan that slipped from Killian as she slipped the fork through her lips, running her tongue across them to catch the residual oil from the onions.

"It's really good," she complemented, glancing up at Killian who looked far too affected for someone who'd just been complemented on scrambled eggs. She had to bite back a grin. How had she ever expected not to get attached to Killian Jones?

Stupid. Stupid. _Stupid._

Killian came around the counter and slid onto the seat next to her, his own plate in front of him. The quiet returned but it was a companionable one. Comfortable. One she could get use to and when she wasn't lying to herself, the togetherness was already something she'd gotten used to. As much as Emma had tried to keep her distance, to fight to remember that they could only be friends, something more had crept in. Killian with his kind little gestures and words that could so easily be read into.

"Lass?" Killian started, breaking the silence, with a hesitant tone. Emma raised a brow, turning towards him. Killian looked nervous and Emma's stomach plummeted. This was it.

Just like when she was five, arriving back to a foster home to find the parent waiting, ready to talk, she knew what was coming. The end. People always were scared to break the end to her, as if she wasn't used to things coming to a close. In reality, the end was about the only thing Emma was used to. Everything good always ended for Emma, except for the Nolans and part of her was still waiting for the shoe to drop on that one, unable- unwilling- to believe they would stick around forever. Emma didn't need people to break things to her easily. There was no point.

"You're ready to leave, aren't you?" Emma cut in, Killian's eyes widening in shock. The brashness might have surprised him but he'd thank her eventually.

Killian reached up to scratch behind his ear and Emma tried not to let the predictable nature of it soften her. "It's not that I don't want to stay, lass. Emma, truthfully, this last week has been the best week of the last few years."

"Really?" Emma gasped out before Killian could continue his spiel or she could control her emotions. "But you were so sick."

"But I had you," Killian answered, the honesty in his tone flooring Emma.

 _I had you._

Had Killian fallen for her as hard as she had fallen for him?

"You had me?"

Killian twisted further in his chair so their knees bumped, sweats brushing against flannel pyjamas. Killian reached forward and grasped her hand, giving her fingers a squeeze. "Emma, you are the most wonderful creature I've ever laid my eyes on. You're beautiful and tough and underneath that all you've got this amazing heart. I don't know how you kept your heart so pure after everything you've been through. I wouldn't have gotten through this process without you. Do you know how many times I wanted to break? But I didn't because you were always there with a new glass of water or just one of those looks that I could get lost in, even when I was a complete asshole to you. You gave me the strength to detox. I know the war's far from won yet, lass, but I've won the first battle. Because of you."

Emma didn't know what to say. She'd never been seen as useful in such a way. She'd never been seen as needed in such a way. She was _strong?_ Most people thought she was broken. Hell, she'd heard David talking to Mary Margaret after the Neal debacle about how scarred she was. She was prickly. Guarded. Angry. Fucked up. Her heart had been ripped to shreds by a low level drug dealer. She wasn't beautiful and kind and strong.

But Killian seemed to think she was. Killian, who was still holding her hand and watching her process the words, believed his recovery was because of her. Emma had never, _ever_ been anyone's savior in such a way. But to Killian she was.

Before she let herself overthink it, think about what doing such a thing to _Killian Jones_ would mean, Emma leaned forward and brushed her lips over Killian's. Soft. Gentle. Just once but her lips burned all the same. She pulled back far enough that Killian's huffed breath of surprise rushed across her cheeks, Emma closing her eyes at the sensation. Before Emma could panic that she'd just kissed Killian, Killian lunged forward, fingers releasing her hand and tangling in her shirt, pulling her closer. Emma gasped at the movement, her own arms going up around Killian's shoulder's, anchoring herself there before she floated away.

Killian was warm, but not like when he'd been fevered. He was firm underneath her, the tremor not noticeable as adrenaline coursed through her own system. There was a strength to the way he held her against him, knees pressed uncomfortably together as Emma tried to remain in her chair but at the same time practically climb into his lap. He was soft. Yielding. Experienced and skillful. Lips moving against her own, sucking her bottom lip into his mouth and eliciting a short groan from her as she threaded her fingers through his silky dark hair.

They broke apart, panting for air. Redness climbed up Killian's cheeks, his eyes blown wide with emotions Emma wasn't in the mind state to adequately process, especially since she knew she looked no better. Killian's hands slipped from her shirt, two fingers moving towards his mouth as he blew a strong breath out against the digits.

Emma's mind was reeling as she fought against the panic she didn't want to feel. She'd just kissed Killian. And he'd kissed her right back. With equal if not more fervor. The bits of stubble that had started to grow back on his jaw had scratched her skin, heating it up. She'd have a bit of a rash around her lips later, proof that she hadn't made up the kiss.

 _The fucking kiss._

And the whirling inside was proof that she didn't want that kiss to be the last one she ever got from Killian.

"Well," Killian muttered, running a hand through his hair. Hair that Emma's own fingers had messed up just moments before.

That fucking kiss had been amazing. She wanted more. Addicting. Crave inducing. No wonder Killian Jones had so many women eager to be with him. It all made sense now that she knew how he kissed.

"What was I saying?" Killian asked, still dazed, before shaking his head. A short laugh forced its way out of Emma at how befuddled the kiss had made him. It hadn't even been a proper make out session. If that was how he acted after just a good quality kiss, how would he act if she got the chance to do other things with him?

 _Focus, damn it._

"Right, well," Killian started, gathering his wits, "as I hope you can tell now, I don't want to leave. I don't want to leave this little safe haven you've built or your company. But I've encroached on your space long enough. When I woke up this morning feeling better, I knew I needed to get back to my place where my piano is. I've got that song writing deadline and honestly, I have to learn to stand on my own legs, though, I hope you'll be standing with me?" Before Emma could answer, even really address that he wanted her around even after the detox, Killian pushed on. "But I was wondering, if you'd come with me and help clean out my house of alcohol? Just because I've detoxed doesn't mean I still don't want it. I don't think I can do that on my own." Killian's face twisted then, a dark cloud blocking out the post-kiss haze and he reached forward, grasping her fingers again.

Emma gave his fingers a squeeze. It was hard to process what had happened. And even more so, what that meant. Killian had shown his hand, sewn his heart onto his sleeve. And then Emma had kissed him- hopefully not just a one-time thing. Killian didn't want to leave her. Still needed her. Wanted to keep her in his life. Emma understood why he needed to leave, both for personal and work reasons. She herself had needed to prove to herself that she could stand on her own two feet after the first Neal debacle, making it through training academy in her own shitty, first little apartment with barely enough to eat, working backshifts to make ends meet but she'd done it. But even though Emma knew all that, she couldn't lie and say she wasn't relieved that he still wanted her around. Emma had been so scared of being thrown to the side like so many other times. Knowing that Killian didn't want that loosened the tension around her shoulders.

"Okay, after breakfast, we'll go over? You'll have to give me the address."

Killian gave her a relieved grin. "I think I can do that."

An hour later they were both fed and changed, Killian back in the jeans, black t-shirt and leather jacket that Emma had cleaned up, and piled into the car. Killian seemed a little antsy, leg bouncing up and down against the floor mat as he directed her turns towards a ritzier area towards the edge of the city. Eventually, Emma turned on the radio, finding an old radio station and urged Killian to sing along with her. That seemed to calm him, all of the agitation fading away when Emma caught his hand in hers, holding them over the armrest.

It was easy to tell when they reached Killian's neighbourhood, the houses growing larger and fancier, the cars sitting in driveways shinier and far more expensive than Emma's old bug. The ladies running up the sidewalk were kitted out in gear that seemed designed for ladies who pretended to run but really just walked briskly to Starbucks and back.

It was the kind of neighbourhood Emma had seen on TV as a child, always wishing she could live in but knowing she was never good enough to be wanted by a rich family. But she'd not even been wanted by the shittiest of homes, no matter how economically stable they were, so she'd given up on that idea quickly. Everything in this neighbourhood was shiny and manicured, whereas Emma's childhood was dented and dingy cars, paint falling off the shingles and lawns overgrown. Hell, it wasn't much even now, a small and old apartment and a car with too many memories to get rid off.

It made her feel like shit.

Like that foster kid everyone kicked around on school playgrounds because she didn't belong.

Like the young woman who couldn't keep even a low level criminal interested in her.

Like that fuck up right from the beginning.

Killian had had a shitty upbringing and had ended up living in a ritzy neighbourhood. Emma had a life where she was constantly shooting herself in the foot because that's all she knew. All she knew was a life of shit so she didn't let things get better. She had fallen in with bad crowds as a runaway because she didn't think she deserved any better. She didn't move on from Neal and it destroyed her dream career. She could have moved to a nicer place, a bigger place, but she stayed in her shoebox because why should she get a decent space when she'd just fuck it all up in the end?

"Emma, you okay?" Killian asked, pulling a little on her hand. Her arm barely moved, the tension so high that her tendons were visible.

"Yeah," she answered quickly, the lie rolling of her tongue easily. She'd always been fine, even when she'd been falling apart at the seams. Even when she was starting to realise just how far she was from Killian's life.

Killian sent her a look, eyebrow climbing up his forehead but Emma kept her eyes on the road. Today was supposed to be a good day, the day Killian took the next step in his recovery. She couldn't ruin it before it had barely gotten started.

"Turn in here, lass," Killian said, voice tentative as he kept looking at Emma, trying to figure out what was going on in her mind.

The house Killian had directed her to wasn't quite as large as some of the other places they had passed but it was gorgeous. A large mansion, three floors, with white cement shingles made to look like wood, covering the outside and set up onto the hill. A huge white wrap around deck stretched across the front and around the sides, a few deck chairs dotting the space. A three car garage was attached to the left side at the end of a long driveway. The lawn was manicured perfectly, obviously done by a gardener because Killian had been gone for a week and it still looked like it was just done. The whole place was guarded by a wrought iron fence and gate that Emma pulled up to.

 _Fuck._

They were a long way from Emma's place in Queens.

They were a long way from Emma's comfort zone.

"Press 4246 on the keypad," Killian instructed, almost bashful. Emma did as she was told, trying not to panic. This was still Killian. The Killian she had arrested and pulled from his own boat. The Killian she had sat with through vomiting sessions and mood swings. The Killian she had kissed that morning.

But fuck, they hadn't been at this kind of place when it happened.

They'd been in a normal place, trying to be normal people. They hadn't been in a ritzy mansion with closets probably filled to the brim with designer clothing. They hadn't had the images that went along with such a place. The expectations.

Everything Emma could never live up to.

The gate opened in front of them and Emma started up the drive, sucking quiet breaths in between her front teeth. Don't panic. This is for Killian. Not you. Don't be selfish and ruin this. _Like everything else._ They parked in front of a panelled white garage door, each getting out into the still cool morning air, Emma grabbing the bag she would be putting bottles in from the floor of the front seat.

"Welcome to Chez Jones, lass," he said somewhat sheepishly, waving a hand in the direction of the front door. Emma risked a glance at him, noticing two blossoms of red high on his cheeks. Was Killian embarrassed by his house? Did he realize that Emma had never been in such a large place in her life, see her as a poor orphan Annie and was feeling the second hand cringe?

 _Get your shit together, Emma._ That couldn't be true. She knew Killian. He was probably embarrassed because he knew what it was like to have nothing and now he had too much.

"It's big," Emma replied, nodding her head towards the building.

Killian scratched at the back of his ear. "I didn't used to live here alone." _Right, Liam, Milah. Stupid, Emma. Stupid._ This place probably held a million bad memories for him, especially after the last few years.

"Okay, well, shall we?" Emma stuttered out, cringing internally at her awkwardness. She hadn't been this awkward with Killian that morning. And yet, seeing his real world, it all came down. It wasn't that she was star struck. It was that she had become irreversibly aware of her inadequacies compared to the handsome man leading her into his mansion.

"Sorry for the mess, Swan," he put in as he toed off his boots just inside the big oak door. "I fired the maid a year ago after she found my bottles." Of course he'd had a maid. Probably a really expensive one too.

The place wasn't really that messy. There was a layer of dust over the highboy cabinet in the hallway, a few bottle caps scattered across the floor. The coats hung in a mishmash on the rack but the shoes were ordered surprisingly neatly, the juxtaposition catching her attention for a moment. The space was cold, unlived in almost, despite the socks that sat on the end of the overstuffed leather couch, the empty pizza boxes that were on the granite kitchen counter, both rooms visible through doors off the entrance hallway.

Emma removed her shoes and walked further into the space, her feet sliding on the smooth dark wood flooring. The entrance staircase stretched up in front of her, grand and curling around to the second floor landing before disappearing upwards again. The room was open right to the roof near the stairs, a glass chandelier hanging in the space and throwing diamonds of light against the walls. The house was the kind of one they had in magazines- showy enough to earn a four-page spread of "Killian Jones at Home."

That creeping inadequacy started to climb up in her.

 _What could Killian Jones ever see in you?_

Nothing. Delusions.

She had been his saviour, the woman who had pulled him out of the hole he'd fallen into. What he felt towards her was some twisted hero worship, not love. It couldn't be love. Not when this was Killian's life. Not when she felt like she could never fit into the life he could have if he wanted.

Killian was meant to date celebrities, the women who would be in the next section of that magazine, showing off how they manage to meal prep despite filming blockbusters and other ridiculous things. The women who were beautiful and demure, not scared of the camera and instead knowledgeable on how to play the camera to further both of their lives. The kind of women without the past Emma had, without the risk Emma posed to his image.

Not her. Never her.

"Where should I look?" Emma asked, shaking the empty bag to try to cover how rocky her voice had gotten.

"Emma, what's wrong?" Killian asked, stepping closer, going for her hand. She allowed him to take it even though she knew she shouldn't. But she wanted his comfort, to pretend she was good enough.

"Nothing, just tired," Emma answered with a shrug. Killian clearly didn't believe her. "So, do I go in there?" Emma asked before Killian could press, pointing towards the living room. Killian nodded, but didn't let go of Emma's hand.

"Emma, whatever it is, you can talk to me. We've been through so much already and I want to support you like you supported me."

"I'm okay."

Lie.

Lie.

 _Fucking liar._

But how was she supposed to say "I'm realizing I'm not good enough for you and you're actually feeling some false idea of attraction. Kinda shitty because I'm head over heels for you but you know, that's my life"?

Emma just wanted to go back to bed and start the day over. She wanted to go back to the life they had with the easy comraderies and veiled attraction when they sat together on the couch. Of how lovely it had been waking up to find Killian cooking for her, caring for her. She wanted _that._ Not old demons crawling up and telling her she wasn't worth it.

"Wait here," Emma instructed when she spotted the liquor cabinet, shaking Killian's hand from hers and moving to the cabinet. The cabinet had a few bottles scattered over the top, empty but still there, so she cleaned the top off first, setting the bottles into the backpack. Next she moved into the wooden cupboard section, cleaning out a few beer cans and a half drank bottle of whisky. Most of the booze was gone, just a sticky slime to show that it had once been filled with alcohol. It made Emma's stomach twist at the thought of how much Killian had drank alone, without help. Emma zipped up the bag and stood.

"Anywhere else?" Killian shook his head, eyes lingering on the bag she had on her back, of the alcohol he no doubt was dying to get his hands on. Emma grabbed his hand and gave it a firm grip and shake to regain his attention.

"No, I drank the last of my rum when I went out on the boat. I mostly just stayed down here anyways. I slept on the couch most nights if I was actually here." A pained look twisted up Killian's face. Emma felt a similar one tie up her insides because this was where she left him. This was where they needed to return to friends because she couldn't be what he deserved or what he thought she was.

"You'll be okay, you know that, right? This may seem scary but I promise you can do this." She needed him to know that before she left him. She cared too much. She couldn't leave him to fail. She needed him to be okay, to see him singing on stage again, to see him happy.

"It's just a lot."

"I know," Emma answered, squeezing his hand. "And if you ever need to escape you know where I live, but you're stronger than you think. You made it through the hardest week."

"Only with your help."

Emma shook her head. " _You_ did it. _You_ made the choice to get sober. Not me. This is just the next step. You have everything you need."

"I've got everything I need with you," Killian answered, pulling her closer. Emotion welled up within her and she glanced down at her feet. She didn't want to be away from this man. This kind, caring man. But he just wanted her because she was a security blanket. When he was away from her for a while he'd realize he'd been blinded and she was just some nobody from Queens. "Emma, I don't want you to walk out the door without plans for when I'm going to see you next. Go out with me, lass? Saturday night? Let me wine and dine you properly."

She wanted that. She wanted that so bad. But what happened when the paparazzi saw them and figured out who she was then dug up her past? Killian would see what a huge mistake it was to be with her and would drop her. She couldn't be thrown away, not by this man. Not by the man she didn't ever want to be apart from, as terrifying and exhilarating as that was.

When she didn't answer right away, Killian reached up and caught her chin with a finger, forcing her to look him in the eye. He gasped when he saw the tears glassing over her eyes. Stupid. _Pathetic._ She didn't want him to see her cry. She wanted to make it out with her pride so at least when he realized the truth about his feelings for her he wouldn't remember her as weak.

"Emma, sweetheart, what's wrong?"

"Don't call me that," she whispered, stepping back out of his grasp.

"Why not?" Killian asked following her forward towards the door.

"Because, when I leave you'll realize you don't actually like me. It's just some sort of hero worship and you'll realize that I'll actually ruin your career with how fucked up my past is. You deserve someone so much better because you're this amazing person who's made it through so much shit and I'm _just_ shit." The tears started to fall, coursing down her cheeks. She rubbed at them fiercely, the bag rattling on her back with the movement.

"Emma, you don't mean that," Killian gasped, emotion overtaking him now too. Emma looked away, terrified to see him cry, to know she was the reason. He drew in a deep, steadying breath. "I never thought I'd be able to get over my first love, my Milah. But then I met you. You brought light back into my life. Tell me you don't feel that too."

"It doesn't matter," Emma answered, heart breaking. "It doesn't matter if you're the first man that I've cared about since Neal and the only man to actually care about me. It doesn't matter what I want. Your life is more important."

"Then let me decide who I want in it."

"But you will when I leave. You'll see the truth and I can't handle losing you because I'm so fucked up. I've lost everyone I've ever been with. I can't lose you too."

"How do I prove to you that I care? That I want you in my life? That I want to wake up with you and make breakfast and kiss you again?" To prove his point Killian lunged forward, catching her face in his hands and kissing her hard. She gasped at the sensation, wetness pooling on their cheeks to where she didn't know who the tears had come from. Lips moved and nipped, angry, terrified of the end, passionate, desperate. She didn't want it to end which was exactly why she had to pull back, shoving her feet into her shoes.

"How, Emma?" Killian asked, voice completely broken. "How? I'll do anything?" Emma swiped at her tears, hating herself for having to have things like this. But she cared too much about him to risk his career for her selfish desires.

"Stand on your own. Do something for yourself and if you still want me, the me who isn't wealthy, the one who was abandoned, and has a sketchy past- well, you know where to find me." Before her will could break and she could beg for Killian to never let her go, to take her up to his bed and make love to her, she turned and ran, leaving the door open in her haste.

"I'll always find you," Killian shouted from the doorway.

She didn't buckle up or anything, just threw herself into her bug and reversed out the driveway, through the gate Killian must have opened for her inside the house and onto the road. But not before one final glance back at Killian who looked just as devastated as she felt.

But that didn't matter. She was doing this for him. Emma was coming to realize that she would do anything for him. Even if it meant leaving the man who might have become the love of her life.


	19. Trying to Stand Alone

_A/N:_ Sorry if there are any mistakes in this, I don't have the energy to edit closer. My night went to absolute shit and I fought with my parents over the man I love but had to leave when I graduated university (they think he's an asshole because they've never met him and don't understand that I lived two hours away and he worked a full time job along with school so couldn't run to see them whenever they showed up) and I want to make the hour drive to go see him since he's only in my province for one night due to a flight cancellation. I'm 22 and yet they think I can't decide if the guy is good for me or not and they think he's manipulating me (he's not, they just don't understand a relationship that isn't super traditional like their own). It was awful and all I want is to be with him but I can't move out for about another week and thus am under their thumb until then so now I won't see him for months, if ever again. I know I'm not dating the man right now but I just feel completely infantilized and my feelings disregarded. Anyways, thanks for giving me the space to rant, I know it wasn't what you signed up for. Thanks for all your support on the previous chapters. Thanks.

Warning: This chapter contains mentions of alcohol abuse.

Disclaimer: All aspects of Once Upon A Time belong to ABC and the show's creators.

Everything seemed surreal. But it wasn't a dream because if it was Emma would have agreed to the date. She would have stayed for a while and had coffee after getting the grand tour of the whole house. But instead she was gone and he was alone.

Again.

Again, he'd lost the woman he could have easily loved.

It wasn't a dream. It was a nightmare.

Killian couldn't blame her, even though his heart was still breaking. Killian knew enough about self hate to see Emma's reaction for what it was. Emma didn't think she deserved him but in reality he didn't deserve _her._ Not that sweet, caring, feisty and tough woman who'd cared for him. Killian had been a mess and yet she'd still pulled him back onto his feet, given him a second chance at life. Killian had done a lot of shitty things in his life and he couldn't figure out what he'd done right to have Emma end up in his life.

But Emma had gotten one thing wrong- he saw her for who she was. She was an open book to him. He knew she had issues. How many had he brought to the surface the last week? She was scared of intimacy, terrified of being hurt, guarded and protected, guilt ridden and exhausted. Emma wasn't perfect. Not even close. But neither was he.

But they weren't over yet. They couldn't be.

 _"Stand on your own. Do something for yourself."_

Killian wanted her. But if Emma needed him to prove that he wasn't under any illusions, if that would make her feel safe, then that was what he would do. He would make sure she knew he thought she was the most wonderful creature in the world. He would make sure she knew he could see her in his future- every single part of it.

But even though he knew he could do it, even though he knew he cared for her, his insides were tearing in two. He still stood in the doorway, looking at the empty driveway, tears coursing down his face. This wasn't supposed to go like that. The day had started so well. He'd felt so much better, so much stronger, the need to drink just a niggling itch. And then Emma had kissed him.

Not in a million years had Killian ever thought that Emma Swan would kiss so forwardly. He was pretty certain he was going to have to be on death's door and needing some sort of magical kiss before she ever made a move of her own volition. But she had. _She_ had kiss him. And left him dumbstruck. Needing more to breathe. It had been one of the best moments in his life. Period.

It had given him hope that they could be something, that they could be two broken people who come together and make a whole, jagged and sharp but _real._

And then she'd left.

And he had no idea what to do. Killian had no idea how to cope. His coping method had just left in the black backpack (and wearing the black backpack). There had never been a healthy option for Killian. It had always been booze and women. And oh, how he wanted that liquid, the alcohol to burn away his tears and stall the breaking of his heart. The itching started in his fingers, the need burning tight within his chest. Alcohol. He needed alcohol.

But he couldn't. It wasn't an option. Because if he broke now Emma would think he proved her right, that the only reason he liked her was because she kept him sober, helped him get through the week. If he broke now he'd never be able to convince her that he cared about her as a person, not as a crutch. And he couldn't break for himself either. Not after everything, all the pain and the sickness. Not when he was so close to getting free of the vice grip of alcoholism.

Problem was he had no idea what to do. Sure, he had wanted to move back to his own place but he hadn't thought Emma would completely bail on him. There had never been the thought in his mind that he'd have to go cold turkey in regards to help. He thought, especially after the kiss she'd initiated that morning, that Emma would agree to the date and when he had questions of what vegetables were what he was supposed to eat, how to take the next step in his recovery he could call or text her and ask. But he couldn't do that either. He needed to _stand on his own._

Too bad the ground underneath him was falling away.

Killian stepped back from the door and allowed it to swing shut, turning the lock. The house loomed around him. Quiet. Oppressive. Full of memories he didn't want to ever relive. Not the images of he and Liam skidding on their socks through the front hall, laughing like absolute fools, because it was longer than their entire house had been growing up. Not the memories of Milah singing his songs while he played them on the grand piano in the music room. Not the sounds of the backyard parties they would host with all his band members having a jam session in the back. Not the feeling of Emma slipping through his fingers.

 _Fuck,_ he needed a drink.

It wasn't even three in the afternoon and he was ready to head to a bar and drink until he couldn't move.

 _Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck._

What did healthy people do to cope? How did they get through years of self-destruction and heartbreak, loss and anger without going off like a bomb and destroying everyone in their path? Eat Ben and Jerrys like they did on shitty Rom Coms? He definitely didn't have any ice cream in the house. Killian was lucky if there were crackers. Talk to his friends about his problems? What friends did he have? The only one left in his life had just left and he needed to prove he cared for her which meant no reaching out. Killian was going to make sure Emma knew just now much he cared for her, even if it meant he was completely alone now. Exercise? Well, he did have a treadmill upstairs. He hadn't exercised in years, not since Liam had died and Milah had taken off and there was no longer someone to run with. Just things to run from.

Rum. Rum was the only coping method he was good at. He needed rum. Immediately. Enough that he never thought again.

That thought brought up another one. A deep fear of forgetting the lovely blonde haired lass who'd saved him. Of never being able to picture the way her green eyes shone when they joked or the way her mouth softened when they had a tender moment. Loosing the feeling of her hair on his shoulder, the callused texture of her fingers from holding her gun.

Now he knew how she kissed. Forgetting her would never, ever be an option he could live with.

Killian turned for the stairs and climbed them. As much as he didn't want to he needed to try and run and see if that would reign in the need for alcohol. Maybe if he exhausted himself he wouldn't want anything but sleep.

Killian entered the exercise room, flicking on the light. It was a room that used to see a lot of attention, Killian being in it for at least an hour and a half every day he was home from tour. But everything had sat unused for three years. There was a layer of dust over everything, forgotten like everything else in the house. There was a stand of weights off to one side, a yoga mat on the floor for stretches, a stationary bike, a rowing machine and a treadmill that was positioned directly in front of the large bay window set into the wall opposite the door.

Too lazy to go find shorts and too distracted to care, Killian stripped off his jeans so he was in his boxers, leaving the denim in a pile on the floor. The exercise machine fired up as soon as Killian pushed the button and Killian got on, walking at the slow pace it was currently on. He clipped the safety off switch onto his t-shirt because there was a fair chance this much exercise on his destroyed body would make him pass out or spontaneously combust. Whatever came first.

Killian used to love his exercise room. He used to love the house in general. How it was all his. How it would always be his because he'd paid it off and for someone who'd grown up in practically a closet, never really knowing how much longer the house would be theirs, that was a big thing. How the pool in the backyard made the perfect spot for summer parties with beer and friends. Killian turned the speed of the treadmill up at the thought of the cool water droplets condensing on the outside of the brown bottles as Robin floated around the pool laughing and Killian burned the burgers.

Killian started to jog, socked feet slapping against the rubber belt of the treadmill. The house never used to be quiet. There was always music. The TV was always playing after his practice was done, usually some documentary on pirates. The house was rarely empty which helped keep away the looming quiet. Not that at that point in time the house had ever felt looming.

What a difference three years made.

The speed on the treadmill beeped up. Faster. Forget the past. Forget the pain. Forget the ache for what he could not have.

How many things had he done wrong in his life? How many times had he fallen to temptation and sin? Because it was easier. Because he didn't handle getting the shit end of the stick well. Always took it so personally and since he wore his heart on his sleeve, let people walk away with his arms, heart still attached. Liam had warned him growing up to stay away from alcohol since their father had been an alcoholic, making their lives miserable until he left and then nothing had gotten better. They'd just gotten poorer. But after Liam's death there had been no one to remind him how far he could fall. That he could turn into his father.

His worst nightmare.

And he'd let himself become it. Abandoning people when they needed him most. Drowning himself in drink.

But there was one thing different between himself and his father. His father had left his mother, the supposed love of his life, to die of cancer alone and believing she was unloved and unworthy, that she was the reason he had left. Killian was going to return to Emma.

Killian upped the speed on the treadmill, breaths coming now in pants.

Emma was so different than Milah. Maybe that was why one of the reasons the house was bothering him so much. The house was so full of Milah's ghosts, her loud laugh, the floral smell that came off her hair whenever she moved past him, the way her shoes would pile by the door, always reminding him that he wasn't alone. The house was Milah but all Killian wanted was Emma. Emma and her little apartment that was cold but filled with warmth when she was in it, especially when she was letting herself be open in those rare times. Emma was cinnamon and vanilla where Milah was soft roses and pungent irises. Emma was guarded to protect herself whereas Milah had been secretive to protect her own interests, hiding a husband and her own damn real name from him for several years. Killian couldn't even remember what her real name was because she'd always be Milah, his first love, to him. Emma was strong willed and sharp, determined and scarred. Milah was free spirited, never failing to make him feel alive, clever and teasing. Killian had loved Milah so much. Still did in a way. But that was fading, the wounds knitting over, ever since he'd met Emma.

A few more beeps of the treadmill and Killian was practically sprinting. Each bang of his foot on the belt chased away another thought. Each burning breath filling his lungs lessened the burn for alcohol in his veins.

More. More. More. He needed more. To forget. To be numb. To be too tired to break. To give in. To fail Emma.

But it was too much. Burning. Muscles trembling, tearing. Lungs too full and not full enough. More exercise than he'd had in years.

Killian kept running.

For a solid hour.

Right until he was nearly throwing up, having gagged several times already while running. Until his legs were shaking and he was sure he was going to pass out and hit the moving belt. Until he could think of nothing but sleep, deep and oblivious to the pain.

Killian pressed the off button and allowed himself to slide backwards, tipping off the edge of the treadmill. Exhaustion hung heavy in his trembling limbs, weighing him down, beckoning him to the yoga mat that would be the least perfect place to sleep but currently looked like a cloud. His heart was beating out of his chest, missing beats every once and a while as the stress threw it into an erratic rhythm. Killian knew that shouldn't have done that to his body.

Pressing his palm over his beating heart, Killian shuffled out of the room, forcing himself away from the chance of sleeping on the yoga mat. His body just wanted to, needed to, shut down for a while, and he'd be even more sore in several hours if he did that on the hardwood floor with only a cm of foam between his aching muscles and the hard and unforgiving flooring. Killian left his jeans in a pile, pulling off his sweat drenched shirt as he moved through the hallway towards his bedroom.

Killian hadn't slept in the large room in over a year. Too many memories of nights with Milah, even though Regina had replaced the bed Milah had moved out with. Killian knew she didn't need it, had just been doing it to show the real power balance but at that moment Killian didn't care because he had a bed that no woman had ever been on, without the memories the other bed had- or at least ones that weren't as strong.

Killian didn't even bother to turn on the light as he entered the abandoned room. Bay windows covered one of the walls, a set of French doors leading to a balcony. On the other side of the dark blue room was a bathroom complete with shower and tub. The hardwood floor continued into the bedroom, only stopping to switch to marble tile in the bathroom, but a large beige rug covered most of the space in an attempt to warm the space up. It was too lovely a room to have been wasted while Killian slept on the leather couch in the living room or in one of the spare bedrooms that no one, no ghosts, had ever slept in, but Killian had been in no state to care then.

Was in no state to care at that moment either as his eyelids drooped even while he walked. Once reaching the bed Killian flopped down onto it, a layer of dust floating into the air around his body. Killian didn't care about that either, not when he was asleep before the dust could even settle.

A loud and long beeping woke Killian. Several times, as if someone were laying on his doorbell down at the gate. At that thought Killian jumped out of bed. What if Emma was back? What if she'd realized he cared and it was just fear keeping them apart and came to give them another shot?

Killian's head spun as he tripped and stumbled out of bed. His mouth was dry, as if he'd slept for hours instead of just having a nap. His muscles ached, strained and pulled, making every step uncomfortable. The light filtered in strangely through the windows, too pale to be the evening.

Killian rubbed sleep out of his eyes. How long had he slept? How much had that emotional run taken out of him?

Killian glanced at the alarm clock beside his bed just before shuffling out the bedroom door, the noise of the doorbell still echoing through the house. The little red flashing numbers read 8:30, the tiny AM beacon lit up beside it.

 _Fuck._ Had he slept through the entire afternoon and night? It would explain the pain and the mouth dryness and general confusion. Obviously his body was in worst shape than he'd thought if he'd slept that long without waking. Killian was lucky he didn't do any major damage to himself.

Killian limped into the exercise room and grabbed his pants, pulling them on as he fumbled down the hall. The person was still at the gate, ringing the bell. A few moments later Killian reached the front door, pushing the speaker.

"Hello?" he asked with barely concealed hope.

"Hi," came a male voice, definitely not the one he'd been wanting. Killian tried not to be too disappointed. Emma wasn't going to come back on her own. She was too convinced she wasn't good enough to be that bold.

"How can I help you?" Killian asked, his interest in the person at the gate pretty much completely dissipated. If this was some novice pap thinking he was going to come out because the doorbell rang, Killian had news for him.

"I have a package here for Killian Jones? Is that you? Look, this is really heavy and I'm under strict orders not to leave it sitting outside."

"A package?" Killian hadn't ordered anything? Was this something Regina had decided to send over? But she didn't know he was back in his own house yet.

"Yeah. Got delivered to the office this morning before I came in. Can I take it up?" The lad's voice sounded strained, as if he was indeed carrying a heavy package. Curiosity outweighed Killian's disappointment and he pressed the button to open the gate.

"Bring it up," Killian instructed as the metal barrier swung slowly open. Killian waited by the door until there was a knock, or more like a kick, before opening it to reveal someone, not much older than sixteen, wearing the uniform of a local delivery service. In his arms was a large cardboard box, part of the corner scuffed up as if someone had pulled off an old label to reuse it. It didn't bare any of the markings of his record label or management company. Killian reached forward and grabbed it, struggling momentarily under the unexpected weight.

"What do I owe you?" Killian asked, shifting the box to his hip so he could reach for his wallet.

"Nothing, order already came with a tip," the teen responded with an easy shrug. Now that _definitely_ wasn't a Regina move. "Have a nice day."

Before Killian could respond, the boy turned and moved down the drive. Once he was off the property Killian swung the front door closed and shut the gate button. The box still sat heavy, and almost radiating cold, against his side so he moved into the open kitchen and set it on the counter, sliding onto one of the metal barstools that were supposed to be some modern style icon. Honestly, they were just uncomfortable, but would suit his needs at the moment.

No identifiers were on the outside of the box, not even a return address. With a pull the packing tape, the lid flipped open and Killian knew immediately who the box was from.

 _Emma._

There wasn't a card or anything but it had to be her. Who else would send him a survival kit of sorts. Even though she thought she wasn't good enough for him, she'd made sure he would be okay for a while. His heart broke again. He missed her already. Why couldn't she see just how amazing she was? Just how lucky he was to have her in his life?

On top of the box was a small sheet of paper that read in a hurried scrawl _9:00 Wednesday, Victor coming to change prescriptions._ Underneath that was a larger sheet of printer paper with a list of local psychologists on it that specialized in addiction and grief with their contact info. Again on the bottom of the sheet was that uneven writing. _I can't force you to go to therapy, it needs to be your choice to really work. But Victor highly recommends it and I think you would do well to talk about the issues that caused this. These people are all really good and have privacy rules and confidential offices so the paps won't see you._ She didn't need to say it but Killian knew Emma had found that out by going to their offices to check herself, not trusting the words online. Tears pricked at his eyes. How special was Emma Swan? And as of right now, she was lost to him in the way he wanted her. Another sheet was under that with a list of local support groups for recovering alcoholics, all vetted for confidentiality and a few urls to online support groups that he could use as well. A pile of menus were stapled together inside the box, all of nearby places that delivered healthy, organic food. Several items on each menu were circled, presumably because of their nutritional benefits to his overtaxed body. And finally, the majority of the box was filled with cold pressed juices in a variety of colours and flavours. That explained the coldness seeping out of the box and the weight. Killian had to laugh through the tears rolling down his cheeks. Of course Emma would order him a solid week's worth of juice. And he would drink every single one of them, even if they tasted like he'd just licked Bambi's hoof.

Killian brushed away the wetness on his face and rifled through the menus until he found one that served breakfast. Locating his phone in the back pocket of his jeans he made an order for a breakfast burrito with bacon and cheese, though also had kale on it so he didn't feel too bad about the selection. Once the order was made he grabbed the box and moved it to the fridge, shoving it all into the empty space. He was going to need to get groceries if he wanted to eat more than juice. But then again, he did have all those menus and it would be a pity for all that work to go to waste….

It was still hard to believe that Emma had gone to all the work to make the kit. It hurt his heart to picture her leaving in the state she did and then going and making him the kit anyways. It must have taken her the rest of the day to order and compile everything. He needed to get her back. No questions.

The question was how to prove to her that he cared? Truly and unapologetically.

If there was one thing Killian prided himself on being good at, or at least had years prior, it was large romantic gestures. And there was one very specific thing he wanted to do for Emma that he would need some help with.

Killian grabbed a red juice from the box made from beets and a variety of fruits to mask the taste of nutrition, then pulled out his phone again. He dialed Regina's number and held the phone to his ear, settling on the stool again.

"Hello, Jones," she drawled, picking it up on the second ring.

"Morning, Mills."

"I assume since you're calling at this hour you're home and back on your feet?" While her voice was the dry tone Killian had come to expect from her, there was an underlying current of curiosity, tentative relief and maybe even a little pride.

"Well, I'm home," Killian answered, not yet comfortable in saying he was okay. Not when the need had hit so strongly the day before that he'd literally run himself into a complete exhaustion. Not when he really had no idea how to cope or deal with recovery save for the survival kit that had arrived at his door. Not when he didn't have Emma.

"What happened? I thought you were doing okay? Please tell me you didn't go out and-"

"I'm still sober," Killian answered quickly, cutting her off before the tirade could start. He still didn't feel capable of talking openly about going out to bars or what he used to do to get through the day.

"Then what's going on?"

Killian sighed. "The detox process is pretty much over. I've been sober seven days today. Yesterday was the first day I woke up feeling okay so I decided that it would be good to get back on my feet in my own place so I could finish writing a song I'd started. So I asked Emma to take me over and clean out my place." Killian paused for a moment, angry that he didn't notice the level of Emma's distress before it came to a head or didn't push harder when she said she was fine in the car. Maybe he could have set her right earlier before she convinced herself how much she was lacking. Killian blew out a shaky breath. "After that was done I asked Emma to go out with me. I thought she would say yes. I know she likes me. But she said no and took off crying. She thinks she's not good enough and that she's going to ruin my image."

"She does know she's done more for your image in a week than I've managed in two years?" Regina stated dryly. Killian gritted his teeth because it wasn't that simple.

"Emma doesn't see that. She had a really bad childhood and I guess she kind of forgot along the way that I was famous and seeing my house, she panicked. To her, her life could never compare."

"I did tell you your house was a bit much."

" _Regina,_ " Killian hissed in warning. He was in no way in the mood for her joking, especially when her house was far splashier than his.

Regina sighed. "Sorry Killian. You really like this girl, don't you?"

"I do," Killian answered somberly. "She thinks that the only thing I feel for her is a hero worship or saviour complex thing that I think is romantic feelings. She said now that I'm living alone again I'll realize that and leave her and she's had really bad relationships as well, just a shitty life in general, and can't take anymore abandonment. When I asked her how to convince her she was wrong she answered with I needed to do something for myself and stand on my own." Killian sighed, rubbing a hand over his throat that was quickly tightening. "I've only known her for a few weeks but honestly, Regina, I need her back in my life."

Regina was quiet for a moment before there was a shuffling of paper on her end and the click of a pen. "Well, Killian, what are we going to do to fix this?"

Killian grinned, the emotion caught in his throat dissipating as a feeling of hope settled into his chest. "I'm glad you asked, lass. I've got an idea and I'm going to need your help."


	20. Good Enough?

_A/N:_ I hope you enjoy. I've lost my motivation to write because, you know, life, but I'll come back. I still have two more chapters fully finished and another started. So you haven't seen the last of me yet as I'll keep posting regularly until I run out. I'll come back as soon as I can.

Warning: This chapter contains mentions of alcohol abuse.

Disclaimer: All aspects of Once Upon A Time belongs to ABC and the show's creators.

David immediately knew something was wrong the minute Emma had walked into the station the first day after the incident at Killian's house for a day shift. Emma couldn't say she was surprised. She knew what she looked like. Pale and drawn, deep, dark circles under her eyes that for the first time weren't red rimmed, but only because she had to go to work. The pony tail on top of her head was uncombed, rattier than usual, and even the cap couldn't hide the state of it.

It angered her that she'd let herself become so distraught about a man. Emma was independent. She could take care of herself. She didn't need anyone. _No one._

But she wanted. _Oh, how she wanted._

She missed Killian the moment she'd run out the door. Walking into an empty apartment, all Killian's belongings gone, had nearly killed her. Because she'd ended any chance of him ever showing up. Proved just how fucked up she was. No one would ever do anything to chase her down and get her back. Emma knew what she was worth and knew where the line was drawn in the sand. She'd drawn the line and Killian would realize he had no desire to cross it and she'd never see him again. Emma knew that was for the best. Knew Killian was more important than she was.

Knowing things didn't make it hurt any less though.

Emma was just so exhausted. She'd spent the whole day after trying to pull herself together for an hour at her apartment making up a box to deliver to Killian's place. Because he needed to stay on the right track. She needed to make sure he had what he needed now that she wasn't around. She cared too much to see him fail through the cover of a trashy tabloid. She couldn't live doing what Eric did.

It had taken far longer than she'd expected to find a list of good psychologists. She didn't even know if Killian would want to use one but when Victor said Killian should have one to talk to and monitor his new medication she knew she had to make sure he had the option to get one. Especially one that wouldn't have paps lurking to take his picture. She'd ordered him juice and gathered menus. Not only was all the work physically exhausting but it was emotionally exhausting because she wanted to be doing this kind of this _with_ him, not knowing she would never see his warm smile or dancing eyebrows again.

Killian hadn't tried to contact her once. It was really painful to be proven right by the silence of her phone.

Emma had cried herself to sleep that night after eating one of those stupid pudding cups for supper, angry at herself for being so heartbroken. Part of her wasn't even sure if she'd stopped crying once she'd fallen sleep or if she'd somewhere run out of water through the night. Emma had known better. Knew better than to fall for someone so out of her league- fall for anyone at all. But she'd done it anyways and it was tearing her in two.

Without saying anything David had seemed to guess this, whisking her off into the cruiser so they could talk. Just like the last time, David drove and Emma sat in the passenger seat, eyes scanning the sidewalk and road, the inside of the cruiser, anywhere but directly at David. She knew the quiet, the lack of interrogation wouldn't last long but she wanted to extend it for as long as possible.

"What happened?" David asked, ending the silence far too soon for Emma. When Emma didn't answer right away David sighed. "Come on, Emma. I'm worried about you."

"I ran."

Two words and they told David everything he needed to know. She'd said it countless times before. She always ran. Only stopped long enough to catch her breath before she was scared and took off again. Part of Emma knew David woke up every day expecting to have her call and just say "I'm running" and that be the end. The other part of her was just plain ashamed that she'd built her life around running and had accepted that to be her lot.

David answered with just one word.

"Why?"

"Because it never would have worked out."

"Why?"

Emma's temper started to flare. Why? Didn't David know why by now? David knew she was just too fucked up for anyone. That no matter how hard she tried she could never be what Killian needed. That she would never be good enough.

She wasn't good enough for Dave. He didn't deserve to be saddled with her. She was the reason he was no longer a detective. She was the reason the other officers looked at them funny- wondering why an accomplished officer would take a demotion for another officer who was off in some way. There were the rumors she had been crooked. There were the rumors that she was too shitty a cop to be on the force and they demoted her instead of firing her to avoid an HR nightmare. So many rumors and David stood by her through the whole thing. She was the reason he'd taken a hit in pay at the same time he was a new father with a whole other mouth to feed.

If Emma wasn't good enough for Dave how was she ever supposed to be good enough for Killian when the element of celebrity was added in?

"I thought you liked him?" David asked with just a hint of exasperation.

"I do," Emma answered quietly, her heart pulling. She liked Killian _so_ much. "Which was exactly why I had to run."

"You thought you weren't good enough for him, didn't you?"

"I'm not. It's the same decision I should have made when I let you take the demotion. I should have ran. You could have stayed a detective. Leo could have had everything he wanted. I ruined your life. I couldn't do that to Killian too." A tear rolled down her cheek and she swiped at it angrily. This was the first time she'd ever voiced her guilt, too shell shocked at everything after the Neal fall out to do it before when it was happening.

David swerved into a parking lot, slamming the car to a stop. "Emma Swan, what the fuck did you just say?" David was angry. If the tone wasn't enough to tell her that, his cursing certainly proved it. Emma couldn't look at him. "Leo is plenty happy. I'm happy. I made that choice and you're telling me you're blaming yourself because of it?"

"If I'd stepped back from the case it never would have happened. If I'd not lied. If I'd not worked off the books to catch the guy like some bail bonds person. I'm the reason shit hit the fan. And then I let you come with me and get painted with the same damn brush."

"Yeah, you could of. You fucked up. But I'm not mad about my decision to follow you. The only thing I'm mad at about the situation is that you never trusted me to include me in your plan. We were supposed to be partners and you put yourself on the line alone. You could have been killed Emma. You're just one person and you marched into that drug dealer's house like you were superman. Do you know how many nightmares I've had about that? About waking up to a phone call telling me you were dead? But you know what I've never had a nightmare about? Being demoted? Because I wasn't. I transferred jobs because I wanted to stay with you. _You're_ my partner."

"You would have gotten a better partner if you stayed," Emma replied, voice shaking, but only because she had no idea what else to say. She'd never stopped to actually learn how David felt about the whole situation. Everything had just felt out of her control. The world felt like it was spinning the opposite way. A pang of shame at how selfish she'd been shot through her, making her curl into the cruiser's chair, trying to get it to swallow her whole.

"I couldn't get a better one because I already had you."

"We both know that's a lie." Emma knew she wasn't the best. If she would she would have stuck to the rules. She wouldn't have risked everything to get the murderer of her scummy ex arrested while putting her whole unit at risk, especially David as he was closest when the collateral damage bomb went off.

"When will you stop hating yourself?"

The question hung in the air, heavy with truth. _When will you stop hating yourself?_ To be completely honest, Emma had never considered it to come to an end. It was just the way she was. She'd learned from experience. Being labeled as the angry, flight risk in the foster care system had ended up landing her in some pretty shitty homes. How was she supposed to know how to love herself when no one had ever loved her? She didn't know what love was as a child. How it was supposed to feel. Now she had the Nolans but she was an adult now- the damage had been done. Deep down she still felt the doubt that the Nolans actually loved her. Sometimes she just felt they kept her around because they were just genuinely the best of the best, do everything you can for others, Disney character kind of people.

"I don't know how. Don't deserve it."

"Emma," David said as he reached forward and grabbed her hand, "you deserve to be loved. You are strong. You are kind. You're beautiful. You're so caring. You have been through more than enough in your life but you still took a stranger into your house to detox. You are loved. And I'm pretty sure, from what I've heard, Killian agrees."

"He just likes me because I let him detox. It's like I'm some sort of fairy godmother," Emma argued, holding onto that belief that she couldn't be loved because that was what she knew. She didn't have to step out of her comfort zone and risk her heart if she felt there was no hope. It was too terrifying to consider anyone could love her for anything other than to use her.

Especially because that meant she had made a terrible mistake with Killian.

No. No. She couldn't have been wrong. The evidence was glaring.

Orphan.

Wall builder.

Fearful.

Angry.

Professional emotional sprinter.

No, no one could love her.

"Emma, I highly doubt that is the case. I'm actually pretty certain it's not. Because I know you. I heard you talk about him."

"Killian's this handsome celebrity. You should have seen his house. It's the kind I dreamed about until I realized no one ever wanted me. And Killian had this public image. How could I ever fit into that? People would find out I'm some system reject and splash it all over the tabloids and hurt Killian's image. I can't do that to him."

"Have you ever thought that your story may give some little girl who's in the same situation you were in, hope?"

"By being a rock star's girlfriend?" Emma asked with mild disgust. Like some sort of kept woman?

"By being a successful police officer who protects people for a living. By getting out of the system and becoming something better." That quieted Emma. David, sensing her wavering, pushed on. "Have you ever thought that Killian likes you, not for what you did for him, but for what you do? That you fight every day and never give up? That even though you've shit the bed and been shit on occasionally you keep getting out of bed? Have you ever thought that Killian actually looked beyond the surface?"

Emma had never considered there was something good to her. It had always been that people were seeing something she wasn't. But what if _she_ was the one who was seeing what she shouldn't? What if Killian hadn't been seeing her as some sort of magical saviour but instead of someone he actually wanted to be with? What if she had walked away from the best chance of finding love that she'd ever had because she just felt like she was nothing more than shit?

And wasn't that what she did to Killian? How she just saw the rich rock star and not the person beneath. Not the handsome, kind, caring man beneath the eyeliner and big house?

"But what if no one else does and just sees the surface?" Emma asked timidly, feeling dread at what she'd done start to fill her up. David leaned over and pulled her across the console, leaning her head against the counter.

"So? You're the one in the relationship, not some forty-year-old woman trolling you on the internet." Emma snorted at that, brushing away another tear. "Emma, you need to live your life for you. You deserve happiness. Killian may be that happiness. And also- what if you're his happiness?"

 _What if your fear had cost them both a happy ending? What if by trying to save his image, you've actually just ruined his chances for love?_

Fuck. How could she be so selfish?

Emma turned her head so she spoke with her face pressed into his sleeve. "What have I done, David?"

"You made a mistake. So why don't you tell me what happened?"

"I kissed Killian." David turned to look at her in surprise and she didn't even have to look up to know he was giving her a look. "Yeah, I was trying to do what you said and give it a chance. So I kissed him. And it was great."

"Okay, so I don't need all the details." Emma gave him a shove and sat back.

"But then when I drove him to his house I started to realize how rich he was. It scared me because I could never have that or measure up. So when he asked me out on a date as I was leaving I told him he was just imagining me as something I'm not. He told me he wasn't and asked how he could prove I was wrong. So I told him he needed to stand on his own and do something for himself and if he still liked me then, that he knew where to find me. So far, I haven't heard anything."

David was quiet for a few moments, taking it what Emma had said. "Well," he started, "what are you going to do now?"

That was the million-dollar question, wasn't it? How was she going to deal with what she'd done? With the damage she'd caused? What if that ended up with Killian not liking her because she was obviously hurt and damaged? What if he wanted nothing to do with her now? Maybe that was why he hadn't said anything after she'd run out the door?

"I guess I need to wait and let him decide if I'm worth it."

David nodded. "If Killian's got a brain, he's going to come back to you."

Emma just nodded, not trusting a response because even after talking to David there was still that part of her that believed he would run for the hills. That she wasn't worth it. But the other part of her was starting to feel the hope that maybe Killian was going to do what she said, stand alone for a while and then come and find her.

Maybe.

"And you know what we can do to distract you for a while?" David asked, giving her arm a nudge. "You're coming to dinner. Leo's in a very excitable phase so I'm sure you'll be on your toes all evening and won't have time to think about rock stars at all."

"I guess you better tell Mary Margaret to set another place then," Emma replied, trying to push away the doubt to focus on her partner. "Auntie Emma's coming to dinner."

After their shift Emma followed David's SUV in her bug to the Nolan's house in the suburbs. Mary Margaret had been ecstatic to hear Emma was coming over, and after she called to Leo that Auntie Emma was coming over there was no way she could back out. Mary Margaret had learned to do that after Emma had come up with a few too many suspiciously timed excuses after first agreeing but then deciding she was in no way able to handle the picture perfect family for a night.

Emma pulled over on the street when they arrived at the Nolan's, parking in front of the well manicured lawn and honest to goodness white picket fence. The house was sided in a light, nearly lime, green, a little white porch on the front with a wooden chair off to the side of the bright yellow door. Gardens that were tastefully overgrown stood in front of the porch, some vines of flowers Emma couldn't name crawling up the porch railing. This was also the kind of house Emma had dreamed of as a child but she'd had some years to get used to it and not run away on sight. At least not always. Today it just reminded her of the scene at Killian's and her chest tightened at the thought.

As soon as Emma parked and got out, the front door opened and a little blonde boy came racing out with that uneven toddler step, passing his father all together in the race for Emma. She forced a smile on her face.

"Auntie Em!" Leo shouted, barrelling for her legs and forcing her to dive down and catch him before he bounced off her and ended up in a pile. Arms under the little boy's armpits, she hoisted him upwards, swinging him out and eliciting a happy little giggle from him. Leo looked exactly like his father- blonde, blue eyes with a squarer shaped head. When he got older he'd be broad like his father as well but time would tell if he got his mother or his father's height. Whatever it was, Leo would be a heartbreaker, just like his father.

"Hi Leo," Emma greeted, settling the boy on her hip and moving towards the front door where Mary Margaret stood, her little pixie cut bangs held off her head with a gauzy headband. The way Mary Margaret was looking at her as she approached told Emma loud and clear that David had sent her a sneaky message explaining everything that was going on.

"How are you doing?" Mary Margaret asked, stepping aside so Emma could enter the house. How was she doing? She was dealing with the fact that she'd run out on the one person who made her happy because she hated herself. She'd potentially cost Killian his happiness as well, all because she was too scared and selfish. So, she felt like shit.

"Fine," Emma answered tightly. She really didn't feel like another have hope talk from the Nolan's at that moment, especially not when the whole mess was her fault. Leo seemed to sense her abrupt attitude change and turned to her, giving her blonde hair a yank.

"Can we go play, Auntie Em?" Leo asked, pulling again.

"Of course," Emma answered, turning away from Mary Margaret and taking Leo into the living room off to her left. It was a bright, cheery yellow room with sheer curtains and a linen covered sofa with a polka dotted throw blanket covering the seat. A series of trucks and Legos covered the floor, only helping to add to the homey atmosphere of the room without having it feel too overwhelming. It wasn't Emma's style but she couldn't deny how much she wanted the house because it was the exact definition of a perfect home.

Emma just wanted a home. Not an apartment that held her belongings. A _home._

 _Killian made the apartment feel like home._

Ruined that, didn't she?

Fuck.

Leo slapped together two Legos, calling her attention back to him. She took one of them from him and helped him squeeze them together so the boy could keep building a tower. For the next twenty minutes Emma helped Leo build with his blocks, being toddler scolded every time she got distracted by thoughts of family, of home, of Killian- and it terrified her that he completed the trio of her desires, all connected together with things she'd never, and didn't think she could ever, have.

"Dinner," David called from the doorway to the living room. While Emma had played he'd gone and gotten changed, now wearing a maroon Henley and faded denim jeans. The first time she'd ever seen David out of uniform had been a strange experience because it meant she'd developed a relationship outside of work. Another thing she'd gotten mostly used to over the years. The one thing she still wasn't used to, but liked the most, was when people commented that they looked like siblings. It allowed Emma to pretend for a few moments that she had a family.

It took all her willpower not to imagine what a family with Killian would look like. She had _no_ right to imagine that. And probably wouldn't ever again unless Killian truly did see more in her that she did.

"Thanks. Come on, Leo. Let's get washed up." Emma picked up Leo and carried him to the tiny blue powder room off the kitchen, holding up the boy while he washed his hands before putting him down to do her own hands.

By the time Emma entered the dining room Leo was in his highchair with tiny pieces of food cut up in front of him and the Nolans were puttering around the attached kitchen. The whole place smelled like roasted pork and veggies and Emma spotted, to much delight, an apple pie cooling on the counter. Emma took her usual seat and the Nolans sat down, placing glasses of water at each place.

They all made quiet small talk for the first chunk of the meal. Emma could tell Mary Margaret was waiting to pounce until Leo had finished his supper so Emma found herself willing Leo to want more pasta.

Turns out toddlers don't eat much.

"Go play for a bit, Leo. We'll get you when it's time for pie." Mary Margaret let her son down from his high chair and as soon as he was out of the room she turned on Emma like a hardened FBI investigator looking to bring down an entire cartel. From that look it was impossible to tell she was an elementary teacher.

"How long since you ran out on Killian?" she asked, staring intently. David just rolled his eyes.

Emma chewed the piece of pork in her mouth slowly, trying to buy some time. Because while Mary Margaret was trying to establish a timeline, it just reminded Emma of how long it had been since she'd run, how long it had been that Killian hadn't contacted her. When the pork had turned to mush and Emma was force to swallow she sighed and set her head in her hand.

"Two and a half days."

"That's not long," Mary Margaret answered, softening a bit, that lingering tone of hope ever-present in her voice.

"Plenty of time to send a text." Emma shoved a carrot into her mouth to stop her from saying anything else.

"But you told him to stand on his own. Maybe he's trying to do that. You know that takes more than a day."

"But what if he decided I wasn't worth the trouble?" Emma argued back, voice rocky as she voiced the fear that was slowly eating her whole. "What if I ruined everything because I was so damn scared I will never be good enough for him?"

Mary Margaret reached across the table to grasp her hand. "Emma, you are good enough."

"No matter how many times you two say that I don't believe it. Not really."

"I know," David answered, grabbing her other hand. "But we aren't going to stop trying. We see a hell of a lot more in you than you know."

"That's because you're Disney characters." It was hard for her to keep the emotion from her voice as she tried to joke. It was just so hard to believe them and it made her feel guilty for always pushing away their words.

She was just so tired of being fucked up.

She just wanted peace.

She just wanted to feel good enough for once.

Mary Margaret tugged on her hand. "No, it's because we know you, Emma. I know the world has spent years convincing you of how crappy a person you were. But you know what? I'm going to spend the rest of my life convincing you that you're wonderful."

The words settled heavy in Emma's chest. A warmth spreading out. Not from Mary Margaret calling her wonderful, but because she'd said "the rest of her life." To someone who'd always been alone that was a lot. More than could ever be expected. The words went against what Emma had thought- that they were just waiting until a better offer came along like that first foster family, the Swans, had all those years before. Never alone. With Mary Margaret she'd never be truly alone.

"Why do you think we made you Leo's godmother?" Mary Margaret continued on. "We did it because we wanted someone who wasn't perfect but would show Leo how to learn from his mistakes and to keep fighting for what he wanted, no matter what life has in store for him. We did it because we know you're too strong to ever give up. You may run for a while but you always come back to us. We want Leo to see that. To have a mentor that's tough and smart and kind and knows how to take care of herself. You aren't always like us, and we know that, but that doesn't make you any worse than we are. It just makes you a good fit to round out our family."

Family.

Not the first time Mary Margaret had used the word when referring to her but it was the timing and coupled with the words before.

Never alone.

She was good enough for the Nolans. They made that decision knowing full well all the shit she had in her past.

Good enough.

Good. Enough.

But was she good enough for Killian to come back?

"You'll hear from Killian," Mary Margaret said, sensing where Emma's thoughts had gone. "Give him some time to do what you asked him to. Okay? Just don't give up hope yet."

Two pep talks in one day. It was more than she'd gotten at once since the Neal debacle. But this time she wasn't mourning what was lost. This time it was about holding on to what could be. Maybe if she was actually good enough for the Nolans and their perfect Home and Garden life, she was good enough for Killian to come back, to contact her. Because she kept forgetting that she knew Killian- knew he was a decent guy despite everything who tried to be a gentleman. She'd forgotten that Killian would keep his word to the best of his ability. How wreaked he had been when she walked away. How much it seemed like he actually wanted to be with her, begging for a way to make her see. So maybe she did just need to wait.

She'd give it a little more time.

She owed Killian that much.

Maybe she was good enough for Killian and he was trying to be good enough for her.

Emma gave the hands she held a squeeze.

"Okay."


	21. Friends

_A/N:_ This is probably my favourite chapter of all I've written of this story so far. Also, forgive my shody lyrics in this chapter- a song writer I am not. Thank you so much for all the support on this! I've got two more chapters prewritten for this story and four more planned out. Let me know what you think. Enjoy!

Warning: This chapter contains mentions of alcohol abuse.

Disclaimer: All aspects of Once Upon A Time belong to ABC and the show's creators.

Five days had passed since the call to Regina and the only person Killian had seen other than the delivery people was Victor who'd arrived the previous morning and woken him up. Which wasn't who Killian wanted to see. Victor reminded him too much of the woman he wanted to see more than anything. And Killian was in no way in the mood to talk about the lingering symptoms of anxiety and all out fatigue that still plagued him as he dragged his sorry ass to the piano room and up the stairs to his room and back. Victor had prescribed him a baby dose of an SSRI, to help with the anxiety and depression

The ache to see Emma was all consuming. But he was trying to do what she'd asked. He was trying to keep his life together. Killian got up in the morning, usually because something had woken him, either a door bell or Regina calling, and went to the kitchen and drank one of the juices Emma had sent him. They were nearly gone and every time he took one from the fridge it felt like Emma was slipping farther from him. Those thoughts without fail would send him away from the fridge as he desperately tried to distract himself. Sometimes he would run the whole morning until he'd made himself sick and exhausted and sleep until supper. Other times he'd go to the piano room and try to keep writing _Peter Pan's Minion._

 _They lied in Neverland._

 _Told me I was whole._

 _Plied me with drinks to make me believe._

 _Peter Pan's minion has a silver tongue._

But he never got far. Five days in and he'd only written the one verse and it didn't even fit with what he had before, needing lyrics to connect the two parts. There was only so much he could write though before things got too much. Mostly Killian would end up running himself until exhaustion afterwards and sleeping until the morning and the need to drink felt more manageable again. Killian just didn't know what to do other than that. Coping had never been a strong suit but at least running was less damaging to his sobriety than rum was.

A few nights prior he'd found one of the online support groups Emma had suggested and spent some time on there. Seeing a psychologist was the one thing he hadn't taken her up on yet. Things were still so precarious. He would lose control of his thoughts at the slightest mention of alcohol and the idea of having to sit down for a full hour and spew them out to someone he didn't know was terrifying. What would happen when he went home to his empty house after talking about Liam's death, Milah's abandonment, the drinking problem? Killian didn't want to try that until he knew he had someone to go to if it got too much. Killian used the excuse of confidentiality and his celebrity image to get out of it when Victor suggested seeing someone but he knew that wasn't the case. Not when Emma had checked each psychologist office to ensure he would be safe going.

The online support group had been a decent experience. There was a chat room and a forum that Killian spent a good hour combing through, reading posts of the struggles of others, the goals, the failures and the successes. One man had posted that he'd made a year sober after ten years drinking, a habit started after the death of a close friend. The post had hit something within Killian, seeing someone with a similar story to his own reach a success that seemed unfathomable only twelve days into the process. And Killian had only been an alcoholic for less than three years. The post actually made a little sliver of hope light in him, pushing the need for alcohol back into the shadowy recesses of his mind, and Killian, surprising himself, had quickly made an account under a false name so he could write a simple response. _Congratulations. You've done what I'm not sure I can. Twelve days in. Thanks for inspiring me._

After that Killian had gone to bed without running until he was practically fainting and slept through the night. Maybe the support group had been more than a decent experience.

Killian was trying so hard to stand on his own.

Killian wanted Emma but he knew he had to wait a bit longer to see her. He needed to stand on his own for her. For himself. Killian had a plan in the works to show her that he was trying and he was waiting for Regina to give him the confirmation that it was happening. So he kept trying to stand on his own and take care of himself until the call came in.

But he was lonely.

Five days with seeing no one but Victor who knew him. Who wanted to spend time with him, talk to him, be with him. Five days of waking up to a quiet house and falling asleep to the same silence. It was wearing on him.

Waking up that morning to an overwhelming quiet and a desire to just talk to someone, it hit Killian just how many relationships he'd destroyed during his descent. How he used to have best mates who he could talk to about anything, who'd always help him laugh of whatever was bothering him. How he used to take that for granted. Now he had no friends. Save for maybe Emma, but he wanted more with her.

Killian missed his friends. Missed Robin's good natured ribbing, the quiet smile of Eric and the pain in the ass that was Will Scarlet. The ache was even stronger than the one that lived in his chest begging for alcohol. Killian wanted his friends back.

Emma's words rang through his head. _Do something for yourself._

Up until that moment everything he'd been doing had been about taking care of himself so he could show Emma he liked her because of who she was, not what she'd done for him. Up until that moment all his work, anything he'd done outside just trying to stay sober had been about setting up the moment where he'd show Emma just how much she meant to him. Sure, each of those steps had been important for helping him get his life back but he'd not done something to piece together what he'd lost yet other than his sobriety.

And he'd lost friends.

Could he get them back?

Was that selfish to want them back after what he'd done to them? Cutting them off during their time of need, never saying anything as their livelihoods feel apart and he went on to keep singing? Was it selfish to hope that they would forgive him, see what had happened, listen to his story and allow them to try again?

Maybe he could try? They would probably all slam doors in his face but at least he would have tried to get his friends back. But who would be the best to see first? Killian had no idea where Will had gone and he was still too ashamed to face Robin after hiding and drinking himself stupid while his best mate mourned. But Eric- Ariel did say he was trying to keep a close eye on his whereabouts. Maybe he didn't hate him so much that he wouldn't listen to Killian's story and his apology.

Killian thought back to how lonely he had been that morning, how crushing it was to think about another day spent in the same silence. No matter the risk at getting a door slammed on his nose, he had to try. There was no way he could keep living like he was, alone until the day he could go to Emma arrived.

It was decided then. He would try.

Killian grabbed his phone and pulled up the internet. He had no idea where Eric's home or office was. Not that he wanted to go to the man's home if Ariel was there. Killian wanted friends but he was not ready to dodge punches from two people. Typing in Eric's name into the search bar it took a little scrolling to get past the info on _Neverland's Lost Pirates_ , a pang sitting in his chest, but eventually a site came up for Watterson's Harbour and Deep Sea Fishing Tours. That made Killian smile. At least Eric had pursued his dreams after everything came to a head.

Typing the address into his Google Maps, Killian let the phone figure out a route while he climbed the stairs again to his bedroom to get dressed. He pulled on a pair of black jeans and a nondescript heather grey Henley. Killian splashed some water on his face in an attempt to look a little less drawn before hurrying down the stairs again and slipping on his big aviators and black leather jacket, stepping into his beat up motorcycle-style boots.

Killian moved to the garage through the tiny hallway off his music room, stepping into the space. He still hadn't gotten back the black Mercedes he'd taken down to the marina that fateful night. Maybe he could get Regina on that and figure out if it had been impounded or not. Until then he had an older black Camaro to drive. It had been the car he'd purchased after _Neverland's Lost Pirate's_ first really big tour and one he'd neglected in the last few years due to that, instead favouring his new, splashier coupe that didn't have all the memories. But if he was after making this up to his friends it seemed fitting that he drove the car they all used to pile into after shows down to Eric's office.

The drive to Eric's office, an old brick building on the pier with a big sign out front, _Watterson's Harbour and Deep Sea Fishing Tours_ painted onto it over top of a swordfish mid jump, took about forty-five minutes as the traffic was fairly light. As Killian had driven down, following the instructions on his phone, anxiety had once again crept into his system. The what ifs swirling in his brain. What if Eric wasn't there? What if Eric didn't want to see him? What if Eric told him to get out of his office before Killian got a word in edgewise? What if Eric told him he'd completely destroyed lives with his selfishness? What if? What if? What if? The answers to the questions always came back to Killian's mistakes and shortcomings and part of him was terrified to hear them voiced out loud. It was a struggle to remember Ariel's words about her husband, that he obviously still cared enough to keep tabs on him and worry. By the time the GPS announced that he had "arrived at his destination, on the right," Killian had nearly convinced himself to turn back three times.

Killian parked just up the street and watched tourists go in and out of the building, some carrying tickets out and being led by a worker in a deep green polo shirt, logo stitched on the chest, others moving to wait by a brightly coloured pole meeting point further down the pier. Eric's company seemed successful. Pride flared within Killian. At least one of them seemed to have made it out of the band's fallout alright. It definitely didn't surprise him that the level-headed Eric had.

Killian drew in a deep breath. Going inside was something he had to do. Killian had to give himself the chance to try and rebuild what was left of the bridges he'd burned and maybe in the process he'd give Eric some peace of mind that he would be okay. Or that he was trying to be okay.

Killian opened the car door and slid out, walking towards the building. A family exited just as he had made the door, laughing happily about how excited they were to see the Statue of Liberty from the water. Killian kept his sunglasses on and passed unnoticed, slipping through the closing doors behind them.

Inside the door, a few feet in front of him was a secretary at a large rounded desk, a stuffed swordfish tacked on the front. Behind her was a hallway of offices where workers moved about and to the right was a large, open sitting area, the yellow paint of the wall lending a cheery atmosphere to the space. A few pictures of boats decorated the walls.

"Can I help you?" the secretary asked, noticing Killian dithering in front of him.

"Oh, um, yes, lass. Is Eric Watterson here?"

The woman, a brunette with deep red streaks, tilted her head, studying him. Killian pressed his glasses firmly up his nose, really hoping she wasn't some fan who was going to recognize him and make a big deal. "Mr. Watterson's just about to leave for a tour but he still should be in. Who should I tell him is here?"

Killian scrambled to think of something for a moment, scared of the variety of things that could happen if he said his name before answering, "an old friend."

The secretary sent him a strange look before picking up her phone and talking in hushed tones into the speaker. Killian glanced around the room, trying to distract him and keep him from sprinting out of the office before he even got to see Eric.

"Killian Jones, what the bloody hell are you doing here?" The words caught his attention, Killian turning quickly to his left where the voice had come from. Eric stood there, looking absolutely shocked. Not much had changed in the three years since Killian had seen him save for a bit of greying around the temples, his hair no longer the jet black of the touring years.

Killian's hand went up behind his ear, scratching at the spot that was such a habit while he avoiding looking at the receptionist who'd finally recognized her and was mildly freaking out. "Looking for a friend?"

How Eric could look even more shocked, Killian didn't know. Eric turned abruptly to his secretary. "Get Robert to do my tour. I need the morning off. Come on, Killian. Let's see what crock of shit you've got going on now." The words weren't malicious, instead ringing with memories of years prior when they would spend hours together. Killian had to laugh at that, the first true laugh he'd had since Emma ran out. Some of the anxiety relaxed, his shoulders drooping a bit as he followed Eric up the hallway and into a large office with big glass windows overlooking the harbour. Eric sat in the big wheely chair behind the wooden desk before motioning to another chair on the other side.

"I can't say I expected to see you today," Eric said once Killian had shut the office door and sat down. "You look like shit."

"That's what three years at the bottom of a bottle will do," Killian mumbled in return, pretending to study the office so he didn't have to look at Eric.

"I guessed as much. But what I can't figure out is why you're here?" Eric asked, a bit of irritation in his voice that he attempted to cover with a sip of coffee. Killian deserve that. Three years of silence and then he showed up unannounced.

Killian sucked in a deep breath. Now or never. "I'm sober."

Eric spluttered and coughed as he choked on his coffee. "Oh." Eric coughed a bit more and Killian had to fight the smirk because even though this was serious it was still such an Eric thing to happen. "How long?"

"Twelve days." It seemed like nothing when he said it out loud but it had been the hardest twelve days of his life.

"Wow. I'm proud of you." Eric didn't seem bothered that Killian had been sober for less than two weeks. He honestly did seem proud. It gave Killian hope that they might be able to be friends again.

"Thanks. Since I've been sober I've realized a few things and one of them is how many bridges I've burnt because I was selfish. I'm sorry I wasn't there for you all."

Eric nodded. "I'm sorry I didn't fight harder to be there for you." The guilt in his tone broke Killian. Why was Eric sorry? It was his fault, not Eric's.

"That wasn't your job. I locked myself away. I started drinking."

"Your brother had just died. And Milah was a bitch."

Killian shut his eyes against the memories. He couldn't get lost in them now. This moment was about Eric, not his issues. "Marian died and I didn't even go to the funeral."

"Yeah, that was a rat bastard move." Eric's tone was sombre but not angry enough that Killian felt he was mad. What had Killian ever done to deserve such a kind hearted man in his life? He'd been so stupid to let that go.

"I know. I'm not proud of it. I was just so focused on what I'd lost and then how I could forget. I got lost trying to cope with alcohol and women. Nothing mattered anymore except for trying to find peace. I was selfish. Angry at the world and myself and I stopped seeing that other people were struggling too. I don't expect Robin to ever forgive me. Or Will. Or you."

Eric leaned back in his chair and studied Killian carefully. Killian forced himself not to look away under the thorough gaze. Killian had laid it out. It was time for Eric to decide. "Well, Killian, I don't know about Robin. The man took everything really hard and he's just trying to raise Roland now away from everything. Will's back in England, I've not talked to him in about a month so I can't speak for him either. But I forgive you."

"Seriously?" Killian knew he was gaping at Eric from the way his friend smiled back.

"Seriously." Eric stood and came around that desk, wrapping his arms around Killian as soon as he stood to meet his friend. Because they could be that again. They could be friends. Eric gave Killian a few hard pats on the back before pulling away and moving to sit in the chair again. "We're friends Killian. I never stopped being your friend, even if you stopped being mine."

"Thank you, mate," Killian's voice was shaky with emotion, made worse by the mood swings he was still experiencing. He coughed quickly, trying to dislodge the lump in his throat. He would not get emotional in front of Eric.

"Don't know if my wife's your friend though," Eric laughed, breaking the tension.

"She has one hell of a backhand," Killian answered, laughing as well.

When the laughter subsided Eric leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. "So why now? Tell me, how did you get sober after all these years?"

"I didn't do it alone," Killian answered. For the next half an hour Killian talked about Emma. About how they'd met and then how she'd been with Ariel that night. The week from hell she coaxed him through. How she never gave up, even when he wanted to. How he'd fallen for her. And how she'd fallen for him. And then the end at his house, her running out crying, him waiting at the door, praying she'd come back. And then the last five days of trying to do as she asked and stand alone so he could show her that he truly cared about her. Killian told Eric everything and Eric just listened, smiling and nodding at all the appropriate places and as he did, that loneliness Killian had been feeling started to fade away.

"Remind me to send her a thank you fruit basket for getting you on the straight and narrow," Eric laughed when Killian had finished his story.

"She's one of a kind," Killian answered, a wistfulness pulling at his words. He missed Emma. So much. Hopefully Regina would pull through soon.

"So what are you up to while you wait to get the lovely Emma back in your arms?" Killian rolled his eyes at his friend's words.

"I'm trying to write a song. Record label's breathing down Regina's neck about my next CD and she bought me two weeks to recover and write something." Killian glanced down at his hands, sucking in a deep breath. "It's not going well. Every time I start I just want to start drinking. I've got three verses done and that's it but I've only got a few days left to do the rest of it."

"So let me help," Eric offered, reaching for a pad of paper. "You know I helped write pretty much everything on our last album."

"You'd really do that?" Killian asked, shocked, taking the pen Eric offered him to write down the lyrics to _Peter Pan's Minion._ "After how I let the band break up?"

"We're friends, Killian. And anyways, even though I love my job, I do miss writing."

Killian studied Eric for a long moment, making sure that Eric really wanted to do it and wasn't just offering because he was a much better person than Killian was. Eric read the lyrics Killian had written down carefully, chewing on the edge of his lip. He seemed genuinely interested and Killian couldn't deny the man had a talent for writing.

"Okay, let's do this."

It took them two hours to finish the song and get basic chords down for it. Killian pulled the pad towards him, studying the lyrics while Eric hummed the soft and somber melody to himself.

 _It finds the lonely_

 _It finds the lost_

 _Knows who can be tempted to want a better life_

 _Knows who is tired._

 _Who's done of this life._

 ** _Lost my marker for the sun_**

 ** _Moon's the only one who notices me_**

 ** _Maybe it would be different if I went to Neverland_**

 ** _Maybe you don't need a shadow to be human there._**

 ** _To be whole_**

 _Just a shell of a man_

 _Bloody demon stole my shadow_

 _Nothing following me now_

 _Thought I was lonely before._

 ** _Lost my marker for the sun_**

 ** _Moon's the only one who notices me_**

 ** _Maybe it would be different if I went to Neverland_**

 ** _Maybe you don't need a shadow to be human there._**

 ** _To be whole_**

 _They lied in Neverland._

 _Told me I was whole._

 _Plied me with drinks to make me believe._

 _Peter Pan's minion has a silver tongue._

 ** _Lost my marker for the sun_**

 ** _Moon's the only one who notices me_**

 ** _Maybe it would be different if I went to Neverland_**

 ** _Maybe you don't need a shadow to be human there._**

 ** _To be whole_**

 _In the darkness of Neverland, running from everyone_

 _I found my Wendy, beautiful and blonde, hidden, forgotten, in her cave_

 _She'd found my shadow and was keeping it company_

 _Making it tea and nursing it to health_

 _Attached it for me_

 _Burnt it to me_

 _Burnt my soul_

 _And lit me up_

 ** _Found my marker for the sun_**

 ** _She was the sun. She is my sun._**

 ** _Moon's not the only one who notices me_**

 ** _It was different in Neverland_**

 ** _I am whole._**

"Look's really good," Killian said, tearing off the sheet from the pad and folding it up.

Eric grinned in return. "It does," he replied proudly. "It feels really good to write again."

"It feels good to write with you," Killian answered honestly. "Like old times."

"Maybe we can do it again?" Eric suggested somewhat tentatively, as if he expected Killian to return to his solo career without wanting help again, like this was some sort of peace offering and nothing more.

"Well, I do have a whole album to write," Killian answered without hesitation. "If you're interested I'll tell Regina to add you to the payroll. Might be a nice supplement?"

"Well, we are trying for a baby," Eric admitted, smiling down at his lap.

"Congratulations, mate!" Killian reached across the desk and gave Eric's shoulder a slap. "You'll be a great father." Even though a twinge of jealously ran through him at the thought of Eric settling down, being a family man, being happy, Killian was genuinely pleased to hear his friend had found his way. And he would be a wonderful father. If Eric could forgive Killian for all his transgressions, he would be very good at forgiving a kid's attempts at being a Crayola Picasso on his or her bedroom wall.

"Thanks. Maybe we can write another song next week? Say Saturday? We could have a barbecue after. Ariel's off work and you're welcome to bring Emma if you've mended things by then?"

"Promise Ariel won't hit me again?"

"I can't guarantee it but I'll try to keep you two separated." Eric gave him one of those dazzling smiles that had always made fans fall all over him, begging him to play for them.

"It's a deal then. Send me your address and I'll be there. Hopefully with Emma." Killian stood, pocketing the song. "But I should let you go back to work now and I've got a manager to go talk to."

"Good luck, mate."

"You too," Killian answered, moving to the door. Killian paused before he went through it, turning back to Eric. "Thanks for forgiving me. You're a better man than I."

"You're getting there, Killian. You'll be okay. Call me if you need anything."

"I will."

"Good."

With that Killian stepped out of Eric's office, closing the door behind him. The morning had been surreal. Even after everything, he still had Eric in his corner. Even after everything, he still had a friend.

The house didn't seem quite so lonely when he got back to it.


	22. A Song for Emma

_A/N:_ I think this is the chapter you've all been waiting for. Hopefully it lives up to expectations. And exciting news- this story will be featured on Captain Swan Book Club on Tumblr this week! Check it out if you're interested! I'm really flattered so that's cool. I definitely need to try and get back to writing this since next week is the last one I have fully written. Thanks for all the support! It's amazing and I'm blown away! Let me know what you think of this one! Enjoy!

Warning: This chapter contains mentions of alcohol abuse.

Disclaimer: All aspects of Once Upon A Time belongs to ABC and the show's creators.

Two weeks. It had been two weeks since Emma had run from Killian. Two weeks without a single word from the man. Two weeks of trying to hold on to the hope that she was good enough for him to want to come back for her.

Two weeks was a really long time when she barely believed she was okay.

Two weeks was pretty much too long for her to hold on.

Emma had lived a life of loneliness. She'd never had anyone to rely on as a child, at least not for longer than a few weeks if she was lucky. Growing up crammed into bedrooms with too many other kids she used to relish living alone when she first got out of the system and tried to get her life together after Neal and then she just got used to it. She got used to having no one to talk to, of never buying food and eating nothing but takeout because she had nothing to hold her to the spot. But now she hated it. She hated waking up alone, having no one to make breakfast for or with, going to work and going through the motions, then home again to an empty apartment for another night of solitude. She hated every minute of it.

For someone who had spent her whole life in self-imposed loneliness, one week with someone else and she'd lost her taste for the living environment all together.

Killian had changed her.

And it was starting to look like she'd completely fucked everything up.

Mary Margaret had taken to calling her daily to check up, see if she'd heard anything and make sure Emma was alright. Leftovers came to work with David in colourful Tupperware for Emma to take with her after the shift ended and eat something that had actually been made in a home. David watched her like a hawk, throwing in casual compliments in their regular conversations, trying to reassure her that she wasn't what she so often thought she was.

Two weeks was a long time to have the Nolan's be that overbearing.

Emma just wanted Killian back. She wanted to see his little smirking smile and his bigger grin. She wanted to watch his eyes sparkle and flash. She wanted to get to know him when he was feeling better, more himself but she still wanted those soft tender moments she'd had when he was ill. She wanted to feel his calloused hands in hers, be open to actually allowing herself to hold onto him. She wanted to kiss him again.

She _really_ wanted to kiss him again.

Two weeks of wanting.

Two weeks of not getting.

Two weeks of being very upset at herself.

Emma was really good at destroying the good things in her life. She'd done it countless times as a child, distancing herself and staying angry as protection even when she was in a good home and being sent away for it. She'd done it with the investigation with Neal and lost her job for it, demoted from detective. And she'd done it with Killian because she was too damn scared to take a chance and then she thought too damn little of herself to take Killian up on his offer of trying to be together.

Day fourteen and Emma was once again in the squad car, pulling a bear claw apart in her hands as they patrolled. It was another day shift in preparation for a few nights on and Emma was looking very forward to getting off to go home, order Chinese and sulk. Maybe she would start a new Netflix series since she'd finished the other ones in her queue over the last few weeks.

She was pathetic.

It was driving her mad.

"Leo misses you," David said after a while of quiet.

"I don't feel like coming over tonight, David," Emma answered in a hushed but firm tone. She shoved a piece of the donut into her mouth, very much not in the mood to deal with David's guilt trips. Emma hadn't been over since the first night David found out she'd run out on Killian. Emma was just getting too much from the Nolans as it was. Going over would be unbearable.

"Maybe you can come over this weekend with Killian?" David suggested and Emma shot him a glare. It was painfully obvious that Killian wasn't coming back. Why couldn't David or Mary Margaret understand that? David just sighed and they went back to driving around in silence.

A few moments later David's phone rang, Mary Margaret's picture just after giving birth to Leo flashed across the screen. David clicked the speaker on, leaving the phone in the cup holder.

"Hey Mary Margaret," he greeted, a smile pulling up his face despite the earlier tension. Mary Margaret always made him smile. Jealousy twisted at Emma's insides. She wanted that. For the first time since Neal's initial betrayal she wanted to be with someone again.

"Are you in the car?" Mary Margaret asked in a rush, the sounds of music playing in the background on her end.

"Yeah, why?"

"Is Emma there?"

"Yeah, I'm here," Emma answered quickly, leaning closer to the phone.

"Turn on the radio now. Channel 109.2."

"Why?" Emma asked, already reaching for the cruiser's dial.

"Just _do_ it, Emma." With those words she hung up. Emma shot David a confused look and he just shrugged, seemingly just as puzzled by the whole thing.

Emma found the station easily just as a song was coming to a close.

"This is 109.2, The Rock, and that was Boundless by _Neverland's Lost Pirates._ I'm here now with the band's ex-frontman, Killian Jones." A tiny gasp left Emma's lips, her fingers raising to touch them. David glanced over at her worriedly. "So, Killian, you're going to do the first single of your new album for us now. Anything you want to say first?"

There was a low throat clearing and then a breath. "Well Jesse," Killian started, voice lilting playfully. Emma's stomach twisted and she simultaneously wanted to turn the radio off and turn it up. Killian sounded good. Far better than the scratchy voice she'd so often heard groaning on her couch. Emma's lips tingled with the memory of the kiss they had shared that last day and her chest tightened as she remembered how she had left him those weeks ago- crying, alone. "This is not a song I wrote. This is a song that I learned as a child but pretty much forgot about until a lovely lass reminded me about it, and about me. She asked me to put this song on my next album when she heard me sing it. This song is called _Silver Sea_ and it's for Emma."

A guitar started to pick in a slightly different rhythm than it had in her bathroom. But she knew it immediately, would have even if Killian hadn't said the title. Killian started to hum, just as he had in the bathroom but this time the melody fit the guitar he was playing. A few moments later the words started to come. Killian's voice sounded even better coming through a proper mic instead of echoing off the edges off her bathtub and it only took a few lyrics to flow through the car speakers before Emma was singing along, eyes closed. She could almost see Killian, lips pressed close to the mic as his long fingers worked over the guitar.

And it was for _her._ Because she'd asked for him to put it on the album. Killian had gotten the rights for _her_. Other than David, no one had ever made such an effort for her. The twist she'd felt in her chest earlier started to unravel, a warmth replacing it.

"Emma, I know you don't do this kind of shit but if you're listening, I'll call you tonight." Emma laughed wetly at the reminder to her first reaction to his music. David looked at her, amused but also careful.

Killian was going to call her. He hadn't decided that she wasn't worth it. She _was_ worth it. She was wanted. Killian wanted her. And he was saying that on _live_ air. Emma's head was swimming as she tried to come to terms with what Killian had done and what it meant.

"There you have it everyone, Killian Jones, back from tour with what sounds like is going to be his best album yet. And maybe a new girlfriend?"

A pause.

"Maybe."

A new song started up, a heady pop tune, and Killian was off the air.

Maybe. Maybe. Maybe. Maybe. Killian's last word on air rung through the air. Maybe because it was up to her. Maybe because he wanted her but wasn't sure if she was brave enough to allow it. Maybe meant possibilities.

"Well," David broke the silence, turning the radio off. "Was what he said, true?" David asked. "Did you ask him to record that song?"

"Yeah. Killian sung it to me when I was trying to get down his fever. I was panicking, thinking I should call 911 and he distracted me with it. Afterwards I told him he should record it and he told me he'd try." Emma hadn't really believed that he'd record it. Killian was a huge artist, only putting out new songs that fit with his esthetic. But he'd convinced his label to allow him to get the rights to the song. Just because she asked.

"I guess I know what you're doing tonight." David paused for a minute, processing what he'd said. "And I don't mean Killian. Just- you know- What I mean is that I guess you'll be talking to Killian."

Emma nodded, fighting the grin that would make her look like a gargoyle. "I guess so."

The rest of Emma's shift went by exceedingly slow. She wouldn't be home until six o'clock. It made her antsy. She had her phone but this conversation wasn't something she should have at work. Emma wasn't that desperate that she was willing to be seen as unprofessional in a place that already saw her as a complete fuck up at best and a dirty cop at worst for her involvement with Neal. Having to arrest a couple of teens caught fighting over some girl provided a much needed distraction that kept her busy for a good hour and a half as she and David booked in the boys and called their parents. It kept her from checking her phone and focused on work.

Didn't mean her mind didn't stray to Killian as she listened to the little shits in the back of her car curse at them.

But she didn't look at her phone to see if she'd missed any calls so she was pretty proud of herself.

When six o'clock rolled around Emma finally checked her phone to find no new notifications. At least she hadn't missed Killian's call. David shot her a thumbs up across the roof of his car as they parted ways in the parking lot and Emma just rolled her eyes with a smile. She was mostly just surprised David hadn't threatened to arrest Killian if he hurt her.

Emma got into her bug and started away, her phone ringing with a text moments later. Emma grabbed it quickly, holding it up in front of her while she waited for a chance to get through the parking lot and out onto the street.

 _If he hurts you I'll kill him. I don't care if he's famous._

Emma actually laughed. Because of course David would send her that after he realized she'd driven away without being reassured of his murderous rage that would be unlocked if she was upset. Emma tossed her phone onto the passenger side, deciding against texting him back. It wasn't the first time David had told her something like that, though it was the first time ever addressed to a romantic interest.

The closer Emma got to her apartment the more nervous she got. That initial joy at hearing Killian's voice on the radio, talking to her even though by all accounts she shouldn't have been listening, had worn off. Because she was Emma. Because she still had those doubts that wouldn't be settled until he called her.

The doubts that said he just wanted to thank her.

The doubts that said he just wanted to be friends and the maybe was just for show since he was on air.

The doubts that didn't go away overnight, no matter how many pep talks she was given, no matter how many times she whispered that she was good enough to herself at night. Emma was a woman of action after all, never trusting words and her shoddy interpretation of it.

 _But you heard no lie._

 _But you know how Killian feels._

Fucked. That was what she was. Fucked completely as she tried to figure out how to get back to that life where not everything was about protecting herself, where some of it was about taking off her armour and letting herself be happy. Even though she swung between happiness and fear, Emma ultimately just wanted to be okay. Content. Settled.

Emma let herself into her apartment, once more entering a completely silent apartment. Hopefully completely silent and lonely for the last time. Hopefully after that night the apartment would fill with the potential of eventually having people in it other than Emma, of coming home with someone and falling into bed, cooking dinner, breakfast, joking and laughing.

Changing from her uniform to comfy leggings and a long navy sweater, she pulled down her bun, sweeping the resulting curls off her shoulders. Despite spring clawing it's way out of winter's shadow, the nights were still cold and she found herself needing to slip on grey and red wool socks that went up to mid-calf.

All the while her phone sat on her bed, ringer turned up to max as she waited. As she tried to distract herself. Avoid the thoughts of how she had left Killian at his house and if that would cause issues, if it would be brought up. Emma knew that she had run because she wasn't brave enough but she held onto the idea that she'd done it for the right reasons. She had done it for Killian, not because she was trying to be selfish. She wanted better for him. If maybe she'd started to see she was wrong since then, well, she'd admit that. She was sorry it had happened that way but not that she had tried to make Killian's life better. Hopefully Killian saw it that way as well.

Emma's phone ringer filled the silent apartment and she nearly jumped out of her skin. That anxiety came back, tingling in her fingers. The heavy knowledge that this phone call had the potential to drastically alter her life. One that was unfulfilling but safe.

She wanted more than just going through the motions.

Emma grabbed the phone and clicked on the call. "Hello?" She was very proud of herself for only letting her voice shake a little bit.

"Hi." At least she wasn't the only one who sounded a little off balance. Silence fell between them for a few moments. One the other side of the line, Killian sighed. "You weren't happening to be listening to the radio earlier, were you?"

"I was," Emma answered, settling on her bed because her legs weren't going to hold her up much longer. Killian sighed, relief heavy in the sound. "You're lucky Mary Margaret listens to the radio on her way home from work."

"So you heard?"

"It sounded really great. Thank you," Emma added, trying to convey just how grateful she was that someone had done such a gesture for her.

"I'm glad you liked it. Seems like others have as well. That's why I couldn't call earlier. I had to do another interview for Rolling Stone over my next album."

"That's okay." They were beating around the bush. The elephant in the room that was what was between them. "I worked until six."

"Oh, are you tired? Have you eaten yet? I don't want to keep you up." Killian's voice was quick, a bit anxious. Emma had wanted to ask Victor how Killian had been but ultimately decided against it. Maybe the anxiety hadn't gone away completely.

"Killian. It's barely eight. I'm okay." Emma took a breath. "How are _you_ doing?"

"Okay. Still shaky. It's been hard but I'm still sober." A pause. "Today was a lot though." A wobbly breath in which Killian seemed to be trying to decide something. "You home?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Can you come open your door?" Emma bounced off the bed, moving towards the door. What was Killian planning now? A delivery in return for what she'd sent him that first day apart? Emma opened her apartment door and nearly dropped her phone.

Killian stood across from her, leaning against the hallway wall. In grey, slightly ripped denim and a fitted black t-shirt, his leather coat pulled on over top, he looked better than Emma had ever seen him. Rough stubble, just long enough to look intentionally casual, covered his jaw, and while Emma appreciated the facial hair, it did exacerbate the dark circles under his eyes. He looked good. Not great. But way better than Emma was used to seeing him.

"Swan," Killian breathed, pushing himself off the wall.

"Jones," Emma answered, gesturing for him to come closer.

In two steps he was in front of her, so close that Emma could feel the warmth rolling from his body. "I did what you said. I stood alone. Took care of myself. I even mended a bridge I thought I'd burnt to the ground." Emma felt her lips part in shock and she forced them closed again, instead tipping them up in a cautious smile. "And I've realized since you left me, that even though I seem to be kind of okay at looking after myself I still need you." Before Emma could interrupt, say it was alright if he just wanted her to be his friend and caretaker, even though her heart was breaking, Killian continued on. "Because you're beautiful, and smart and caring and strong. I need you because you make my life better. I don't want a life without it. I don't care about your past- the gossip rags can suck my dick. I just want to be part of your future. That's all that matters to me. So I'm going to ask you again. Emma Swan, will you please go out with me?"

A laugh bubbled up in Emma's chest, a bit wet sounding, but she nodded anyways. Here was Killian, in the flesh, standing in front of her and confirming that he wanted her. That she was enough for him. That he had no plans of blowing and throwing her. _Because she was enough._

Killian laughed too before swooping down and pressing a kiss to her lips. Hands looped around her waist and pulled her closer despite the happy chaste way their lips moved against each other. Her own fingers caught in his belt loops, grounding herself to him. Emma had only kissed him once before but doing it again then, Emma had no idea how she'd made it two weeks without another kiss.

A few moments later they pulled back, cognizant that they were in the apartment hallway, her door hanging open as they held onto each other. Killian was leaning on her heavily, the day obviously a lot for someone still so early into recovery. Emma slid her hand around to Killian's hand, taking it tentatively.

"Come in and sit down, we can talk about things inside."

Killian gave her a grateful smile. "Thanks, lass."

Emma led Killian to the couch where he had spent so much time on and let him get settled. She stood in front of him, their hands hanging loosely between them. "Have you eaten yet?"

Killian shook his head. "There were some snacks at the radio station but I've not had much appetite since." His earlier words about the day being a lot came back to her. Killian had been sober for just under three weeks, it didn't surprise her that trying to slip back into that celebrity persona had worn on him. The dark circles and tightness around his jaw started to make more sense. Emma wished Regina could have bought him more than just two weeks to recover. Killian really should have had another full month to himself and away from the spotlight at the very least.

"Let me order us some food, yeah? From that place from before?" When Killian looked like he was going to resist, Emma raised a brow. "You're eating. You told me you were taking care of yourself and that means eating."

"I am eating," Killian replied tiredly. "It's just, today I had the two interviews and then there was that social media stuff to sift through. People expect this thing from me, which I guess is my fault, so I have to respond a certain way but lately I'm just tired. It's hard to be _Killian Jones,_ " he spat out his name like it was rat poison. Maybe the persona the name represented was.

Emma squatted in front of him, taking his hand in both of hers. Killian's blue eyes bore into her as if he were seeking some sort of balm to his weary soul. In that moment it felt like Killian had never left the apartment, like they were still trying to figure out how to get through the detox. "You're recovering, Killian. Three weeks isn't a long time. Things will get easier as your endurance builds up and you get more comfortable with sobriety. It isn't ever probably going to be easy. But it will go smoother if you're easier on yourself."

"Going easy isn't going to be possible for a while. I'm in the middle of this album and Regina called to tell me that there are already shows wanting me to come on to do promotion and they're talking about a new tour." At the mention of a tour, Emma's gut twisted. It was like someone had thrown a pail of cold water on her, abruptly bringing her back to reality. Leaving. Already he was planning to leave. She should have known. Killian seemed to notice where her thoughts went because he grasped her hands tighter before she could pull away. "I haven't agreed yet, Swan. And anyways, it's a long way away. Maybe you can come with me?"

"Maybe." No. Killian would never want her around him on tour when he had so many screaming fans. She'd just get in the way. She wouldn't be able to go on tour. She'd be left all over again. Who knew how many women would be throwing their bras at Killian at each tour stop. Even though she said maybe she'd just crash his persona. Maybe was just another way to procrastinate saying no. To pretend that something else was possible for her. For them.

"Come on, Emma, let's not ruin this night by worrying about the what ifs. I'm with you. You're just as big, if not bigger, a priority as my music." Killian lifted her hand to his lips, kissing the knuckles gently. The warmth slid up her arm from his lips, tingling pleasantly. "Tonight let's focus on us, yeah? I just can't think of anything else than that right now." There was just a hint of pleading anxiety in his voice. Emma's chest tightened at how much Killian was fighting to keep present with her.

"Okay. Yeah. Tonight can be about us." She _really_ liked the way us sounded. Even with her nerves about the potential tour she couldn't deny how good it felt to be back with Killian. How much she had missed his watchful blue eyes and gentle smile. The presence that made her apartment far more bearable. For one night she could think about nothing but that.

"Good." Killian let their hands drop to his lap. "I'll order from my phone if you sit with me?" The offer didn't quite cover up what Killian really meant- to stay by him, not let go, not when there was clearly a lot of anxiety flooding through him.

Emma slid in beside him, settling on the sofa so her legs brushed his. She could feel the brushing of his twitchy legs through the thin cotton of her leggings but as she settled down beside him the tremors lessened. No, Killian wasn't great but he was getting better. She sent him a smile. "Deal."


	23. Chipped Tea Cup

_A/N:_ So this is the last prewritten chapter that I have. But have no fear- tonight I got all my stuff (or like most, work never actually ends in grad school) done early so I can spend the rest of the night writing the next chapter. I don't know how much longer I will be able to keep doing the weekly update thing but I'm going to try my best to keep it up as long as I can. Also, did anyone participate in the Captain Swan Book Club yesterday? I couldn't get ahold of those running it to be included or find out if it had been cancelled? Anyways, I hope you enjoy this one! Thank you so much for all the support, it continues to blow me away. Let me know what you think of this one! Enjoy!

Warning: This chapter contains mentions of alchol abuse.

Disclaimer: All aspects of Once Upon A Time belong to ABC and the show's creators.

Killian hadn't thought getting back into the public eye would be as hard as it was. It wasn't supposed to be. Killian Jones was about as clear cut as a persona could be. Of course, Killian had built the persona while completely drunk and the longer he tried to sit in the persona without it, the more he realized what an integral part of the puzzle rum was. Now the persona sat like a suit that was too big, hanging unevenly, the too long sleeves tripping him up on occasion.

But Regina had made him promise not to reveal why the suit wasn't tailored anymore. Too much was at stake with his new album coming out. The record company couldn't risk the public seeing what Killian wore under his costume. Not with the new record coming out within two months. The media on Killian had to be on the music, the potential tour, not on the person beneath. Regina had said that in time they may reveal what Killian had been through but not at a time where questions needed to be on muses and sound, not personal tragedy and failed coping methods.

The anxiety Killian had been feeling always magnified until his hands were shaking and he had to grasp the neck of his guitar harder, the strings protesting with low hums that bounced through the radio booth. It wasn't that he was about to perform _Silver Seas_ for the first time, with the definite dedication to the blonde who had been haunting his dreams. It was that he was about to slip into the cocky son-of-a-bitch he'd been for so long when all he wanted to do was speak in the tone he'd used in the bathtub with Emma, picture that smile she'd sent him and wish he was back at her apartment.

The anxiety medication Victor had prescribed hadn't taken full effect yet. As Victor had explained it took about two weeks for his body to even get used to having the SSRIs in his system. This meant the anxiety got worse, his appetite less as well as a mild insomnia which found him spending more time on the treadmill each night as his endurance increased and it took more and more to knock him out. Killian was just barely at the two-week mark and the symptoms of initial introduction were just starting to fade. Killian had practically lived on more of those healthy juices for the past week, stomach too sensitive for anything else. Killian was still on the baby dose of his SSRI. This whole process was going to start all over again in a few months if this dosage didn't take and the whole prospect was enough to send the anxiety into an even stronger spiral.

But at the radio station he'd closed his eyes when he'd sung _Silver Seas,_ pretending he was singing to Emma and not some middle aged eighties hair band reject in a fancy radio room that still managed to smell like cheap plastic and Cheetos. Just another day in the life of a musician. Singing the lyrics Killian could almost see her fine features, hardened by life but still beautiful. Could almost smell her vanilla shower gel. Today Killian was laying it all on the line in front of his fans with the definite possibility that she wouldn't be listening. Killian had understood that when he'd made the plan with Regina, wanting to do it anyways because he wanted people to know she was important to him, however she agreed to be in his life. It was why he'd answered the radio show host with that heavy maybe, just enough _Killian Jones_ to make the fan girls swoon but the rest was all Killian, a truth that Emma would hear if she was listening. And if she wasn't, well he'd had the station forward a copy of the show to his phone so he could play the soundbite for her.

Several more hours had passed before he could call her. Time spent with a Rolling Stone journalist who'd made her intentions _very_ clear and Killian had been forced to send her an obnoxious leer as he announced that he was otherwise engaged later that night. Lies. Disgusting lies. A life of lies. Built on lies to cover the truth too painful to voice. And the lies would continue, one person in the public and one in private because he was contracted to do one more tour and needed to sell albums. Killian had sold albums before as a different person but now, now he'd made this sex sweat soaked bed and he needed to lie in it until people no longer cared about his celebrity.

It was fucking disgusting. All he wanted was to explore how he wanted to be. How was he supposed to fully recover when the world wanted him to stay the exact same way because he was hotter like that?

But the balm had been soothed when Emma had answered the phone. And then she'd answered the door. Allowed him to kiss her. Brought him back in to her home and sat with him on her couch.

It was the moment he'd been dreaming off. Not perfect. If it was perfect he wouldn't be shaking and drained, would feel okay enough to woo her properly instead of sink into the couch cushions. If it was perfect Emma wouldn't have tensed up at the mention of a tour, her thoughts going back to the abandonment he could see written all over her face, everything always going back to her being left. It wasn't perfect, Killian wasn't sure things could ever be perfect for them but it was them. It was tentative touches and fear and withdrawal symptoms and a worn out leather couch. It was the foundation they would build on. It was solid if only because they knew how fragile it was. They knew where the cracks were, which ones to avoid and which ones to patch with duct tape until they healed naturally. Carefully they would build a new castle on it.

Emma turned towards Killian once he had put in their order for supper. "How have you been?" she asked tentatively. Dancing around the topic of how they had left things, as if instead he'd just been on a vacation.

"I can now run fifteen miles at once without wanting to throw up."

"What?" Emma asked in shock, pulling away slightly to see if he was joking. When she realized he wasn't she scrunched her face together in confusion.

Killian shrugged. "I don't sleep well. I started running that first night to stop myself from fucking up and going out to a bar. I ran until I was sick. Since then it's stuck as a distraction."

"You could have hurt yourself," Emma replied quickly, worry colouring her voice. "Your body can't take that abuse now."

Killian grasped Emma's hand. "I'm okay, Swan. It kept me sober. Three weeks."

Emma took a deep breath, trying to shake off the worry. Killian pulled her hand tighter into his grasp. "I should have gotten you a cake to celebrate."

"I'm sure whatever veggies you ordered today will suffice."

"Smart ass."

Killian shrugged, pulling them back to the task at hand. Because even though it was easier to pretend, that was one of those cracks that needed to be patched up. "Anyways, it's not been that easy. The exercise helped keep me too exhausted to search for things that were bad for me and forced me to sleep in my bed for the first time in at least a year." When Emma looked surprised Killian shut his eyes. "My ex, Milah, she took my old bed with me when she left three years ago. I got a new one but I could never sleep in it."

"That bitch," Emma hissed out before she could stop herself and Killian snorted at that.

"But the running helped. I've not got a slew of amazing coping skills to chose from so I chose the best."

Emma nodded, understanding. "I'm glad you had that then. Just be good to yourself?"

"I'm trying." Killian pressed a quick little kiss to her temple. "Anyways, things got lonely. Two weeks is a long time to spend alone in my house." Killian stumbled a little over the words, unintentionally mentioning the place Emma had left him.

"It is pretty big," she answered, equally unsteady. They were both pretty fucked up. But at least they weren't alone any more.

"So I decided to do as you asked. I did something for myself. I went and saw Eric."

"Ex-bandmate Eric?" Emma asked in shock.

"Yeah. Eric Watterson. Ariel's husband. He now runs a harbour tour and fishing place down by the pier. I needed to apologize. With what I did, and then being reminded by Ariel, yeah, I had to go try and make things better. Turns out he's a better person than I and forgave me right away. I didn't deserve that."

"You're trying, Killian" Emma said firmly. How she still had so much faith in him, even with the rocky ground they stood on, he couldn't understand. Killian nodded back at her. Yes, he was trying. Hard.

"I was telling Eric what was happening with me and my new record and he actually agreed to help me finish the song Regina wanted from me. It's called _Peter Pan's Minion._ We spent hours working on it. Like old times." Killian gave a sharp laugh. It was still hard to believe that he'd gotten Eric back. "And he offered to help with my other songs too. He's going to be an official songwriter on my album. Turns out he and Ariel are trying for a baby. The extra cash will help."

"And you'll both get a little bit of the past back."

Killian gave a tentative smile and another little shrug. "I like to think that's true."

It wasn't perfect, instead like that chipped teacup in Beauty and the Beast. A part missing but still real and reasonably whole. Kind of like Killian was trying to be. It wasn't whole, not without the presences of Will and Robin who had constantly been there before but Eric and he were trying to figure out how to be friends again.

They hadn't seen each other since that first meeting but they'd been in touch. At least every two days Killian would hear from Eric, either a new lyric for a song Eric was currently batting around or a story about the clients he had served that day. Killian knew what the texts were below the surface, that Eric was checking in on him to make sure he was still doing okay, hadn't disappeared again like last time. At first Killian had been filled with shame that he'd let his friend think that way, feel like he'd be abandoned again but then Killian remembered what reaching out had done for them so Killian pushed aside worries of pushing boundaries or bothering Eric and started texting him first. It was just a small thing but it was another piece of the tea cup that he had glued back together.

Maybe that idea of a chipped tea cup would make a good song. Killian opened up his text messages and fired off the quick idea to Eric.

"What was that about?" Emma asked, having watched him send a rather outwardly appearing cryptic text to Eric.

"Song idea," he answered. "As you know I stick to the fanciful and I have to admit, you caught me with an idea about trying to put a relationship back together being like a chipped tea cup."

"A relationship?" Emma paused for a moment, "As in like us?"

Killian didn't look at her, scared that would put too much pressure on her. Because now that she mentioned it, it was like them, even though he'd been thinking of Eric and the friendships he'd lost. But with Emma it wasn't so much as putting together a tea cup again, it was more like trying to build one with all the shards of porcelain laying out on the table in front of him.

"It could be," Killian answered carefully. "I think that's up to you, lass. I laid my cards on the table." Killian was aware that Emma had never answered his question about going out with him, even though she had seemed pleased to see him, if that kiss was anything to go by.

"Oh, yeah," Emma hushed out. In his grip he could feel Emma's hand twitch, as if she were battling herself on whether or not to pull away. Killian loosened his grip, just a smidge, to give her that opportunity.

Killian waited while Emma thought. Because this was it. Killian had done everything he could to try and prove to her that she was worth it, that he cared, wanted her not because she was his saviour but because of who she was outside of that roll. Killian had told her how he felt and had even mentioned the tour so she knew about his contractual obligations. Now it was up to Emma. Would she want to be with him? Would she want to put up with being the girlfriend of a celebrity and everything that that meant? Would she run like he knew Emma was so prone to doing?

What if he hadn't tried hard enough once again?

What if he wasn't good enough for her?

What if-

Killian tried to reign in the spiralling, breathing in deep like that one post on the online forum had suggested he do when things got too tough. Emma had to make the decision without any sort of outside pressure from him. She needed to make the decision without feeling like she owed it to him, or to fix him.

The apartment buzzer went off, signalling the arrival of their food. They both jumped, the tension making them live wires. Killian's hand went to his chest, trying to press his shaky heart back in place. From the glance he'd taken out of the corner of his eye, it seemed like Emma was equally affected.

With a throat clearing cough, Emma stood, pulling out of his hand. Pulling from him. _No. Killian, you're fine. Breathe._

"I guess I better go get our food," Emma said, breaking the silence shakily. Killian nodded, finally looking at her straight on, trying to send her a smile. She looked scared and skittish, almost as if she wouldn't come back with the food but instead take off. Killian forced himself to stay on the couch and not offer to go with her. Emma took a few steps away before pausing and straightening her shoulders, turning back to him again. "And Killian?"

"Yes, lass?" he asked.

"I do want us."

"Really?" Killian asked on a breath.

Emma gave a sheepish little smile. "I'm sorry it took so long to answer. I just, I battle with being good enough." Killian nodded gently, he knew that. "David and his wife, Mary Margaret, they've been trying to convince me I'm good enough and I just think bad things about myself. That part of me is a lot louder." Killian also knew that. "But if you have patience with me, I'll try my best not to listen, okay?"

"So is that a yes to a date?" Killian asked, allowing a little teasing to come out in his grin as his heart warmed, chasing away the anxiety, rolling it back up into a smaller ball that fit between two ribs rather than the one that took up all the space his lungs needed.

Emma rolled her eyes. "Yes."

Killian reached forward and caught her hand quickly, pulling her towards him. Emma stumbled a little towards him but he grabbed her, steadying her in his own shaking hands. Leaning forwards a bit Killian pressed his lips against her. Warm, a little slick from whatever chap stick she had been wearing. Killian had kissed Emma less than five times and he was already starting to feel like it would be more addicting for him than rum.

The apartment buzzer went off again, an angry sound, and they broke apart with a laugh. Emma pulled back again, but this time it felt more reluctant. "I guess I better go get that before he spits in our food," Emma muttered, straightening her hair as she moved towards the door. Killian watched her go but unlike last time, this time he knew she was coming back.

And with food no less.

Just as Emma stepped out the door his phone rang with an incoming text. Eric's name flashed across the screen and Killian swiped to open it.

 _Chipped, not broken,_

 _There's a difference._

 _Didn't you know, baby?_

 _I never needed that missing piece_

 _Because I had you._

Killian hummed a melody as he ran through the new lyrics. _Shit, man. You're good._

Eric's reply was quick. Obviously he'd been waiting for approval. _It's why you pay me. ;)_

Killian rolled his eyes and tucked his phone into his pocket. Yes, that was what he wanted. A bit more romance focused than he'd be thinking but maybe this wasn't the right topic to use for fixing a friendship. Maybe for that one he needed to go back to the idea of the phoenix rising from burnt bridges that he'd been toying with for a few days, not ready to share with the man who had inspired it yet. But this song wasn't Emma's song either. For that he wanted to write that song that had been torturing him for years, driving him to drink. It would be one that took a long time to write, his body not stable enough to do it yet and the relationship he had with Emma far, far to young. But maybe someday everything would be right and the words for the song would finally come to him. Maybe someday he'd be able to write the song based on the Greek myth of weighing your heart to be deemed worthy on judgement day, but the realm to gain entry to was one of true love.

Killian turned to the television to distract himself from those thoughts. By the time Emma returned with the bag of food, Killian had Netflix up and running on the TV.

"I thought we could watch a movie while we ate?" Killian asked, shaking off the lingering thoughts of anxiety around the un-writeable song at the sight of Emma's tiny shy smile.

"Dinner and a movie?" she asked, raising that golden brow in a teasing arch.

"Well I am a gentleman," he answered, reaching for the bag in her hand and setting it on the coffee table.

"What did you want to watch?" she asked, settling down beside him again, her leg brushing against his and sending heat through him, another cut to the tight ball of anxiety inside of him. Part of him wanted to answer that he wanted to watch her fall apart under his fingers but neither of them were ready for that, no matter how much a single part of him tried to argue that they were. Killian grabbed the guacamole to distract himself, picturing himself covered in the slimy green condiment to cool the fire of lust starting in his veins.

"Something that makes you feel good," Killian answered, echoing the words she'd said to him several weeks ago. It felt like years ago they'd sat on the couch watching Peter Pan and making their first tentative steps towards each other.

"I know just the film," Emma answered, not missing her own words reflected back at her. Soon _The Princess Bride_ was playing on the screen. But this time, after the meal was done, Emma's head rested on Killian's shoulder and he was free to turn and nose her hair, press a kiss or two to her crown.

Partway through the film, Emma looked up at him. "You should write a song about being a pirate, like Westley," Emma murmured.

"Really?" Killian asked, somewhat shocked after the last conversation they'd had about him being a pirate. She had said then that he wasn't one any more.

Emma nodded, her hair scratching against his t-shirt with the movement. "About how you had to become one for survival."

Killian leant down and pressed a quick kiss to her lips. "As you wish." Emma's answering delighted laugh was the sweetest music Killian had ever heard. Killian would write the song if he could hear that noise again when he played it for her. Maybe he could even get her to record the sound as a sample to fit into the song somehow; his very own Buttercup.

The movie came to an end too soon. Emma yawned, stretching so her arms brushed against his hair. When she straightened back up, eyes drooping sleepily, Killian stood, slipping the phone he'd just used back into his pocket.

"I must be going."

"You're not staying?" Emma asked, somewhat surprised.

Killian shook his head, even though he was desperately tempted to stay with her. But Killian wasn't going to have sex with her yet, not when his body wasn't stable and he couldn't give her the focus she deserved. And he was determined for Emma to know she wasn't just a blow and throw. Killian wanted _her_ and he would wait until she knew that. "I want to take this slow, okay? When we do fall into bed together I'm going to do this right."

Emma nodded, only looking the tiniest bit disappointed. Killian took that as a win. "Okay, that's fair." Emma stood and walked to the door with him. "Are you okay to drive back to your place?"

Killian showed her his phone and the Uber app. "I called a car just a moment ago." When Emma raised a brow. "Takes away the temptation, you know?" Emma rolled her eyes as an answer. That reaction always got him. It was just so _Emma._

"So, I was thinking we'd have our first date this weekend?" he asked. She cocked her head, listening. "Like I said, start slow and all. So, if you want, Eric asked us to his house this Saturday for a barbecue. But only if you want." Would she think he was chickening out of a real date? Would she think he didn't care enough to take her somewhere fancy? Be seen in public with her?

Emma held up her hand to silence him before he could really start the anxious ramble. "David actually asked us over for dinner on Sunday."

They looked at each other for a moment before they both started laughing. "I guess everyone else had a lot more faith in us working out than we did," Killian laughed, shaking his head.

"I guess we'll have to thank them by making a weekend out of it," Emma answered, equally entertained. At least she seemed alright with such a casual first two dates. But of course she was, Killian berated himself, this was Emma Swan. This was normal. She liked normal. Start in her territory and work towards yours. It might even give him time to pull his own shit together before they walked the red carpet as an official couple.

Hopefully he wasn't getting ahead of himself.

"See you Saturday, then?"

"Yeah, sounds good." Emma tucked a loose strand of her hair behind her ear. "Thank you again for the song, Killian."

Killian opened the door and let it swing a jar. Bending, he pressed a kiss to her lips, speaking against her skin. "You're welcome, Swan. And if it's okay with you, it won't be the last song for you."

"It's okay with me," she answered, stepping back and blushing a bit.

Killian stopped herself from announcing that he'd write a million songs for her. _Slow down Jones, you're getting a little too excited._ Instead he gave her a tiny smile. "Good. I'll see you, Saturday." With one final kiss he stepped out of the apartment and she shut the door, but not before giving him one extra look. And he was looking right back at her.


	24. 144 Hours of Clinical Sweat Protection

_A/N:_ Sorry for the delay in getting this up. Grad school has completely taken over my life. Like I work constantly. But I'm really happy with how this one came out. I'm going to do my best to get the next date up next week since this weekend is Thanksgiving and I should have some time off to write. But if not, I'm determined to get it up in two weeks, Monday just like always. Thanks so much for all the support and patience as I try to figure out this new step in my life. It means a lot! Let me know what you think of this one! Enjoy!

Warning: Contains mentions of alcohol abuse.

Disclaimer: All aspects of Once Upon A Time belong to ABC and the show's creators.

The only thing keeping Emma calm about her first date with Killian was that it was at a causal barbecue with her work colleague. But it was only _just_ keeping her from sweating through three layers of 48-hour protection deodorant.

Which was weird because she'd practically lived with Killian for a week. She'd literally seen him puke kale and chocolate pudding and then lay in an ice cold bath tub in nothing but boxer briefs. He'd seen her screaming and crying back at him. Heard her story. There was no reason to be wearing the equivalent of 144 hours of sweat protection.

And yet here she was, wearing her best dark skinny jeans and a thin sweater that she'd bought the night before because even though they were barbecuing it was still early spring and Boston was fucking cold. Apparently men didn't need for it to be a warm temperature to want to singe meat. Even though the get-together was impractical she was determined to look cute, damn it. Because not only was she going on a first date with Killian, she was also about to meet pretty much his only friend.

She really hoped the six-pack of craft beer was suitable for a casual double date. Wine didn't really go well with hamburgers and she'd panicked trying to figure out what to bring.

She was really shitty at this dating thing.

Which really, after all this time should stop coming as such a surprise to herself each time she thought about the process. She should have developed some sort of system to make herself bullet proof for a date, something like what could be found in an apocalypse prepper's basement. Perfume that smelled like the classiest boss lady. Eighteen containers of roll on deodorant. Some sort of manner's guide written out on cue cards to study each night leading up to the fiasco. Winged eyeliner stamps that she could just press on and automatically be fabulous.

Instead she had a very small wardrobe to choose from and slightly wonky black wings for her eyes that took _thirty fucking minutes_ to do.

Again, she was really shitty at this dating thing.

All she could hope for was that Killian was equally bad. But she had a feeling that he wasn't. That underneath the anxiety and withdrawal, there was this suave British gentleman who was built to woo women. The kind of man who knew exactly what wine to order at dinner and could talk to the chef in perfect French. The kind of man little girls dreamed of. Emma wasn't that little girl though. She wanted someone with imperfections because she was so fucked up that she didn't want to continually be the one weighing things down. Was that selfish? It was true, even though she felt bad about it.

Because she knew Killian was still struggling. She'd been talking to him. Everyday was a battle to stay sober. How watching TV was pretty much impossible if he wasn't sure there wouldn't be alcohol advertised, hence all the Netflix and the _Peter Pan_ and _The Princess Bride._ How he shook too bad to trim his beard sometimes so had to wait until he calmed down and try again. How he ran himself to exhaustion because it was the only coping method he had. Neither of them were perfect. She needed to accept that. They were in this together.

Sometimes it was impossible to keep the sides and beliefs she had about herself- good enough, not good enough, fucked up, strong- straight. Pretty much always it was impossible to know what to believe.

Driving in her car towards Eric and Ariel's house, she was trying really hard to listen to none of them and just _be._ From her phone in the cup holder, the artificial voice tinned out instructions to the Watterson's home in Belle Harbour. At least the home being in her borough made her a bit more comfortable than driving out to Killian's had. Didn't mean she still wasn't out of her tax bracket enough that her palms sweated against the wheel. According to the voice, she was going to be arriving in 300 m, to her left.

Emma slowed and turned, pulling into a driveway of a cozy two level brick house. The house was old, but not in the groady way, in the way that made it look well loved and kept, a real home. The kind of home David and Mary Margaret would live in if they had more money. White shutters boxed the windows, window boxes under it, still empty from the growing season still far on the horizon. The grass was growing though, the greenery starting to liven up the appearance. A swoopy silver car sat in the driveway in front of a two car garage. It wasn't Killian's car though, and since he was already there, must have ubered to the house. Emma pulled in behind the car and stopped, sucking in a deep breath.

She was at the date. Inside the house was Killian and his only friend and that man's wife. Sure, Emma knew Ariel but they weren't friends. She'd turned down the invitation to Ariel's wedding for fuck's sake. But she did know her so hopefully that would help. At least Ariel hadn't slapped Emma like she had Killian.

That must have been an awkward second meeting when Killian arrived earlier. That thought made the worry switch to Killian and how he was fairing inside with the Watterson's. Was he anxious? Scared? Did they have wine out? Sucking in a deep breath Emma pulled the keys from the ignition and slid out of the car. She bent into the backseat to grab the craft beer and stopped.

 _Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fucking fuck._

How could she be so stupid? How could she think it was okay to bring alcohol to a party with a recovering alcoholic. She'd spent a week trying to recover the man. Held his shoulders when he'd vomited so much he couldn't support his own weight. But she'd been so focused on trying to impress the Watterson's that she'd gotten the case of IPAs. She should have got a six pack of soda.

Stupid. Emma, why couldn't you ever be smart? Do something right?

"Emma?" Killian's voice sounded behind her and she whirled, trying to hide the alcohol in her car with her body. "What's wrong?" Killian's face fell and he hurried the rest of the way to her from where he'd been standing at the door. Killian's face was tense but he looked generally pretty good. Dark jeans, black t-shirt, sock feet on the concrete driveway.

"Nothing, how are you?"

"I noticed you pull in and then when you didn't come up to the door, I got worried." Killian reached towards her and grasped her hand, trying to pull her closer. Emma didn't budge. She didn't know what to do. Killian's eyes narrowed. "What's going on?" Before Emma could stop him, Killian moved quickly, ducking around her to look in the car. Killian stilled. "Oh."

"I'm so sorry," Emma started, voice breaking. "I didn't mean to do it. I was panicking of what to do. I wanted to make a good impression with Eric and Ariel. I didn't think. I'm sorry."

Killian pulled back, jaw tight, but still sent her a little smile. "I'm okay, lass. It was a mistake. And honestly, I can't blame you."

"But I brought beer."

"You could have brought rum."

Emma snorted. "I don't deserve you to be so understanding."

Killian shrugged. "Everyone makes mistakes. I panicked too trying to come here. Eric bought the house after the band disbanded. And then there was Ariel. I brought sausage rolls for the hostess. Turns out Ariel's a vegan."

Emma actually laughed. "We're both so bad at this."

"Don't I know it." Killian sobered, eyes flicking back towards the beer. "But maybe you could walk me inside now?"

Emma nodded tightly and grasped his hand stronger. "Come on, introduce me to your friends." She had to tug Killian a bit at first but the farther he got from the car the less resistant his steps were. Emma blew out a heavy breath. That could have been horrible.

But they'd made it through it.

Kind of like everything else.

Emma held onto that thought as Killian opened the door and let them both into the Watterson's house.

The house was bright; the hallway walls a light blue with bright white trim. At the end of the hallway a bright kitchen was visible, this time the walls the colour of the water of the Caribbean. It made Emma grin. Ariel, and it seemed Eric as well, had this weird obsession with the ocean and honestly, seeing this house was not a surprise in the slightest. The air inside was much warmer than it had been outside and scented with some sort of spicy tomato concoction that must have been on the stove in the kitchen.

Emma toed off her boots, setting them down by the heavier combat ones she recognized from sitting in front of her own door for a week. Killian waited while she did so, still not having let go of her hand. Emma gave it a quick squeeze and before she could say anything, check in on how he was feeling, they were disturbed.

Eric ambled out of the room to Emma's left, bright eyes shining as he took in Emma. Eric was a handsome man, black hair disheveled on top of his head, a big white fisherman's knit cable sweater and jeans covering his fit and tanned body. Ariel was a lucky woman. And by the kind smile Eric was sending Killian, it seemed like Killian was lucky to have him as a friend.

"Emma!" Eric greeted, accent similar to Killian's, putting out his hand for her to shake. She did so, thankful she was holding Killian's left hand so she didn't have to let him go. "I'm Eric Watterson but I'm sure you already knew that considering Killian and Ariel." Emma nodded and Eric carried on, the perfect genial host. "I'm so happy you could make it. Ariel couldn't believe it when I told her you two would both be here."

"And if you're wondering lass, she didn't slap me again." Killian grinned down at her and Emma rolled her eyes, pleased that Killian was able to joke again.

"Even after the sausage roll debacle?"

"It was a close call," Eric answered with a laugh. "Thankfully, I don't share my wife's diet proclivities and was more than happy to eat something that wasn't originally green."

"Don't talk to me about eating things that aren't green," Killian groaned in mock agony. "The amount of kale juice Emma forced me to drink while I was detoxing would make a Woodstock Hippy sick."

Before Emma could retort, another voice joined the conversation. "You men need to stop being mean about your better halves," Ariel groused, bustling down the hall from the kitchen. It was strange to see her without a uniform, instead wearing dark grey denim and a navy V-neck sweater, red hair pulled up into a loose ponytail. "You'd be nowhere without us."

"Don't I know it," Killian answered quietly, that self-depreciating tone that he took on whenever he thought he couldn't heal on his own. Emma have his hand a sharp squeeze.

"So, how did writing go this afternoon?" Emma asked to change the subject as Eric led them into the living room. Emma sat down next to Killian on the loveseat, being careful not to jostle the seat and risk tipping over Killian's acoustic guitar that rested against the arm.

"We finished _Chipped Tea Cup_. You know the one I was telling you about?"

Emma nodded. The one that was maybe, kinda, about them. "Do I get to hear it?" she asked as Ariel perched on the wide arm of Eric's plush chair.

"I'm recording it Monday. I'll send you the good copy? I want it to be polished." Emma nodded, trying not to be too put out. She liked Killian's real voice. The raw one that sometimes hurt to listen to. But if Killian wanted to send her the studio version he obviously had his reason.

"Wanker doesn't think his music's good enough for the lyrics so he doesn't want to play it for you yet," Eric put in helpfully. Killian, blushing furiously, chucked the pillow from his side of the couch at Eric, narrowly missing Ariel's head.

"Don't make me slap you again," Ariel cautioned, grabbing the pillow from where it had fallen after slapping Eric's forehead and brandishing it at Killian like a knife. Killian held up placating hands.

"I want it to be perfect first," Killian explained, turning back towards Emma.

Emma wanted to argue that Silver Sea wasn't perfect when she first heard it. Or that she didn't care. Preferred hearing the real one because it made her feel special, like someone was giving her something not perfect but enough. Instead she just gave him a small smile and a nod. Killian didn't need her pressuring him. Especially after she'd brought beer like a complete dumbass. "It will be," she murmured to him.

A few moments later Ariel got up off her perch and excused herself to go get the potatoes ready to go on the barbecue. That left just Eric, grinning at the two of them on the couch.

"Can't believe this prat was lucky enough to stumble into your apartment that morning," Eric said bluntly, shaking his head.

"Can we stop with the name calling?" Killian asked, blushing again. She'd seen Killian bashful before but this was the first time she'd ever seen him embarrassed like this. By a friend. Honestly, with what Killian had told her about his past, she really didn't expect this at all, not this soon. Not with what had happened between he and Eric, especially not after hearing Ariel's take on it. This was ribbing she and David would give each other when they got a bit too rowdy after some beers. It wasn't meant to hurt.

"Why would I do that, you sorry sod?"

"Bastard," Killian threw back.

"Git," Eric returned.

"Arsehole."

"Tosser."

"Okay," Emma cut in with a laugh. "It's getting a bit too British in here for this Yank." Even though she'd cut in, Emma felt pride flow through her. Killian had been right; he'd actually remade this friendship. For no other reason than he was tired of being lonely. He'd put himself out there. It was hard to even think about how far Killian had come already but Eric was a prime example of the growth.

Yeah, Killian had only made one friend. No apologies had been made to his other band members yet and they may never happen. And yeah, Killian didn't exactly seem comfortable all the time, all the blushing and rigid positions and hand squeezing. But it wasn't about reaching the top of the mountain in a single bound. It was about trying not to trip on the loose rocks on the way up and when a fall did take place, it was knowing how to remove the gravel from a knee without removing everything else.

Emma still hadn't really figured out that last part, but maybe if Killian could do it, so could she.

"So, Killian tells me you're a cop?" Eric asked, leaning back in his chair.

Emma nodded, chewing a bit on the inside of her lip. It still stung not to be able to say "actually, I'm a detective." But she'd done it to herself. It was just a bed she really didn't want to have to lay in. "Yeah," Emma answered after a long minute, Killian glancing sharply at her tight tone. Killian knew most of the story, just not all the grief she was still put through by the other officers. Emma pushed on, unwilling to draw any attention to Killian's reaction. "I work here in Queens, in the southwest around Howard Beach mostly for the last year."

Eric nodded. "Well, that explains how you met Ariel." Emma studied him for a minute. How much did he know about why Emma had transferred from her position as a detective within Central Queens to a patrol officer in Howard Beach? Was this a test? Because she hadn't met Ariel in Howard Beach. Ariel didn't work in Howard Beach, instead down in Far Rockaway, which was nearby but not the same at all. Ariel had met Emma and David while completing a sting to catch a man associated with a murder from a drug deal gone bad and the crumbling cartel that supplied him. Multiple different departments had been called in, Emma and David because of Homicide and Ariel was there because she worked with the harbour patrol a lot as a liaison and the drugs were coming in to the city by boat.

Emma took a deep breath. She couldn't risk being caught in a lie. She couldn't risk Eric thinking she wasn't good enough for Killian when most days Emma was pretty certain of that herself. Someone else having that opinion would really push her over the edge in regards to her feelings of inferiority in this relationship. "Not quite. Actually my partner and I were involved in a big drug investigation with Ariel's department three years ago. We just have gotten the chance to work more closely since my partner and I relocated."

"And why's that?" Eric asked, seeming genuinely curious.

Why?

Because she was one gigantic fuck up.

"It was time for a change of pace."

Eric nodded. "I understand that. Going from touring to owning a deep sea fishing company was a big change."

Emma blew out a relieved breath. "I bet," she answered, settling back as Eric started to speak about his own work, pretending not to be too frazzled by that exchange. Killian gave her fingers a little squeeze but she couldn't look over at him. Couldn't risk being caught in a half truth. Couldn't risk as being seen as unworthy.

"Eric! Come deal with your meat," Ariel shouted from the kitchen. Eric rolled his eyes and gave a little laugh before pushing himself up.

"The vegan calls." With that, Eric excused himself from the room.

"You okay?" Killian asked, tugging her hand a bit harder so she turned towards him. Emma did, shifting. This was just Killian now. They'd seen each other through much worse.

Emma shrugged, allowing Killian to pull her even closer, tucking her against his side. She leaned against him, allowing the warmth of Killian's body to calm her. "I was scared Eric knew why I was transferred."

"It doesn't matter if he did."

Emma pulled away, part of her aching at the loss of comfort, the other needing Killian to once again understand just how fucked she was, to know and decide if he still wanted her. "It _does_ matter," she insisted fiercely. "Because my police record sucks. I told you all this. How they all think I'm a dirty cop who fucked a drug dealer, even after she joined the police. A rogue cop who doesn't care and almost got herself killed storming the cartel's headquarters to arrest her ex's killer. That's the kind of past people exploit because the person's too fucked up to do much about it. Eric's your friend. You finally got him back. If he were to find out and it affect his opinion of you, I don't think I could ever forgive myself."

Killian was quiet for a few moments, processing her outburst. "Emma, let's think about it this way, okay? I was an alcoholic for years. I fucked women like it didn't matter. I drank until I was sick and couldn't remember who I was. I lashed out at paps. I nearly ruined my career more than a dozen times. I pushed away all my friends, including my best mate who'd just lost his wife. _I_ did all that. And Eric still forgave me. Still writes with me. You made a mistake, sure, but it's not going to make Eric think any less of you if he were to ever find out. And if he did- to hell with him. You're more important than him."

Emma gasped in horror. "Don't say that." Killian didn't mean that. Couldn't mean that. Eric was a friend, his only friend. Emma was a woman he'd known for a little over a month.

"No, I won't take it back," Killian answered, just as fiercely as Emma had spoken before. "I made my choices. I regret a lot of them, but I'll never, _ever_ regret you, Swan. You and I? We have an adventure to go on here. Eric is just one part of my life, but I want a _whole_ life with you." Killian was quiet for a moment before speaking again with wide eyes, clearly anxious. "Please don't get scared and run."

Because Emma was too overwhelmed to speak, and Killian looked too scared to wait for her to pull her shit together, she just reached out and took his hand again. She was terrified. But she was trying really hard not to run. Because there had only ever been one person willing to risk everything for her and that was David. And David had never left her. David had made her promise to be more open to Killian. To remember that she was worthy of his affections, however strong they might be. She may be scared but she wasn't getting off the couch.

Killian gave her that nervous little smile. "Thanks, lass."

Emma nodded and shifted a bit closer to Killian. Not quite as close as she had been because the panic was still strong in her veins but closer. Enough. They sat in silence for a while, each settling down from their respective anxieties

"Hey guys," Ariel called, entering the room from another door that attached it to the kitchen. "Food's ready."

"Well, lass," Killian began, standing and stretching, "you hungry?"

Emma nodded, taking the hand Killian offered her. "Think there will be any sausage rolls left?"

"I'll fight Eric to make sure you get one," he answered, pulling her into the kitchen.

Laid out on the counter were a variety of plates, several different kinds of vegetables, hamburgers and a weird looking veggie burger, chips and salsa and the sausage rolls of panic. Following Killian's lead Emma filled her plate and moved to the big round table off the kitchen. She took a seat next to Killian, Ariel on her other side.

Dinner was a nice affair. Normal, if Emma was going to put a word to it. It was like a double date that regular people had. While it made Emma a touch uncomfortable because she really was bad at this dating thing, it was also something she was pretty sure she could get used to. The funny inside jokes Eric and Killian had dredged up from their years old friendship. Ariel's talk about work that wasn't at all boring and really had no relation to Emma's own- or at least Emma's questions ensured that. The way Eric and Killian fought over the last handful of nachos and ended up having them crushed into dust in their palms. It was everything Emma hoped the next day at the Nolan's would be, just without the nerves. Of course, it was probably the same fears Killian had about that day as she had while at the Watterson's.

Once dessert had been served, sautéed fruit with a sorbet, Killian and Emma got ready to leave. Killian called his Uber and it arrived quickly. As the Uber honked in the driveway, Killian said goodbye to the Watterson's and kissed Emma sweetly, promising to call her later about the date the next day.

When Emma went to leave directly after Killian, Eric stopped her with a hand on her elbow. She turned, anxiety flooding her once again. She should have known something like this would happen. That Eric would want her to leave Killian because he'd decided she wasn't good enough. That she just wasn't-

"I'm really glad Killian found you."

"What?" Emma sputtered out before she could stop herself. That wasn't what she expected.

Eric grinned as Ariel quietly slipped back into the kitchen, leaving them alone. "I guess I should say that Killian physically found you but you _found_ Killian. And I'm really glad that happened. Killian always had Liam as his guiding light because, as I'm sure you know, he's always had a propensity for things that aren't good for him." Emma nodded, still in shock. "And he lost Liam and pushed away everyone who might become that rock for him. But then you came into his life. Killian's told me so much about you. I know it's not it all, I can tell by that careful look in your eye, but I just wanted you to know, I don't care about what I don't know. All I care about is that my friend is happy. And you make him happy. So I just wanted to say thanks. And that you two are welcome here any time."

All Emma could do was nod. She didn't trust her voice, the lump in her throat too big. Eric had spoke to her fears. And in a way it made sense. Eric knew what it was like to be pushed away by people who were important. It was how he'd lost Killian. Eric must have understood what it was like to feel like you weren't good enough to keep the other person around, the personal guilt associated with that. Maybe that was why he continually checked the tabloids- trying to assuage that guilt because according to them Killian was still alive.

"Drive safe, okay?" Eric added with a nod, opening the door to give her an escape when he saw Emma continue to struggle. Emma gave a tentative smile and stepped out, the cool air centering her again. Emma opened her mouth, determined to at least say something.

"Thanks, Eric. And thanks for what you've done for Killian. It was something I couldn't. So, you know, uh, don't be a stranger." With that, cheeks flaming for acting like a total dweeb, Emma hurried to her car and climbed in, leaving the first but not last of the weekend's double dates.


	25. The Nolan Charming Plan

_A/N:_ Thank you for being patient as I write. Life has gotten to be a lot lately- you know a bit of that if you follow me on Tumblr. So thank you. And I hope you enjoy this chapter and I'm not too rusty. Your support means the world to me. Let me know what you think! Enjoy!

Warning: This chapter contains mentions of alcohol abuse.

Disclaimer: All aspects of Once Upon A Time belong to ABC and the show's creators.

Killian now knew why Emma had been worried. As soon as he'd left Eric's house the panic had set in. Potentially because the adrenaline powering him through the evening had worn away, leaving him a quivering, exhausted mess who really wanted that craft beer in the back of Emma's car. How was he supposed to pull his sorry body to the Nolan's house and pretend he was acceptable to enter their Disney couple realm?

Once the Uber had reached his house, been paid with a grunt and left, Killian slugged up the driveway, letting himself into the quiet, dark home. The emptiness seemed even heavier after spending the day surrounded by music, friends and laughter. The day had gone so much better than expected.

 _Showing up to Eric's house in the early afternoon, guitar in hand, had been nerve wrecking enough to make him want to run away. What if Ariel answered the door? Should he duck and cover? Did he deserve to get slapped again? Probably._

 _But instead of Ariel, it had been Eric who pulled open the door. "You came!" Eric exclaimed, opening the door wider so Killian could pass through. That made Killian feel really guilty. Because Eric was well within his right to be surprised. Killian had nearly backed out a million times in the Uber ride alone. Probably would have combat rolled out of the car had the doors not been child locked. Knowing how unsure Eric was of their friendship, how unstable Killian himself felt, that had been worse than Ariel going total WWE on him._

 _Killian didn't answer Eric with more than a sorry smile but Eric, better man that he was, just clapped Killian on the shoulder. Killian offered the plate of sausage rolls in his hand to Eric._

 _"Is this meat?" Eric asked, sniffing the plate._

 _Killian nodded, raising a confused eyebrow. "Sausage."_

 _"Oh, thank goodness," Eric exclaimed. When he noticed Killian's even more confused look he grinned. "Ariel's a vegan."_

 _Killian's heart plummeted. He had been trying to be a good guest but bringing wine had been too scary. Sausage rolls had seemed reasonable but he'd completely fucked it up. Ariel would probably hate him even more now for contributing to the slaughter of innocent animals. Why couldn't he have just bought flowers?_

 _"Don't worry," Eric laughed. "Do you know how good these smell? Proper meat and not some pressed wheat that's name sounds too close to Satan for my liking?" Eric grabbed a sausage roll- cooked but cold and in need of an oven- and popped it into his mouth. "You're my saviour. These are actually so good I'll protect you from my wife."_

 _Finally, Killian snorted. Eric grinned again, pleased that Killian had relaxed. "Come on, let me put these in the fridge until we're ready to eat. And don't worry, Ariel won't care. I got burgers for us for tonight. Can't expect new guests to eat vegan everything. We aren't that mean. First we need to suck you into our fold." Eric quickly ran the sausage rolls to their kitchen down the hall and then lead him into the living room where his own guitar was laid across the fluffy sofa cushions._

 _"You've got a lovely house," Killian told Eric as he took a seat in an overstuffed chair, opening the guitar case at his feet. And it was the truth. It was the homey house Killian had thought his own place could have become. Lived in. Bright. Personalized with the nautical aesthetic that the Watterson's seemed to love._

 _"Thanks. Not as big as yours, but I like it," Eric mused proudly, running his fingers across the guitar strings of the instrument in his lap to check the tune._

 _Killian didn't say anything about the house being too big. About him being swallowed whole. About him not sleeping in his own bed for two years because it was all just too much. About all the pictures having been taken down from the walls because they were either of Milah, Liam or the band he'd pushed away. Just mementos of everything he'd lost and now he had no memories left but the dust motes of memories floating through his worst dreams._

 _Maybe someday he'd fill the house with new pictures._

 _Of Emma._

 _Of days with Eric in the recording studio._

 _Time out on the water with the Watterson's, Emma and maybe even the Nolan's?_

 _Of his new life._

 _Maybe._

 _Eric seemed to sense the struggle going on in Killian's mind and had a string a bit too much, the reverb of it hitting against the neck enough to pull Killian back to the present. After that they'd jumped into_ Chipped Tea Cup. _Together they were swallowed into the world of writing, the catharsis of pouring out a broken soul onto paper. Eric slowly guiding Killian through the process without allowing him to slip into the need for alcohol that previously consumed his song writing. Killian could see how hard Eric was trying to be sensitive and strong so he put all his energy into hiding the guilt of losing the relationship with Eric for years, of destroying the happiness in his own home- not even sure anymore where Liam's pictures had been placed-, of a life nearly lost to a bottle that made his friends act differently, like he would constantly break. All because he had poor coping methods. It was like going to a Cross Fit competition after years of channelling his inner Jabba the Hutt._

 _But somehow, someway, the song had been written. Chipped, not broken. It seemed the lyrics were right, there really was a difference._

 _And then, just as the music was finished, Emma had arrived. A balm to his soul, even with the beer in the backseat of her car. Emma, his sweet Emma. They were more alike than he sometimes realized._

Killian set his guitar case down on the sofa, toed off his boots and moved into the kitchen. Hands shaking, he pulled open the fridge. Killian grabbed a bottle of juice and moved upstairs. Killian was eating fairly well now. Most days two meals. At least one veggie or fruit each time- because he was working on it, not some health prodigy. But all in all okay. The juices weren't necessary anymore. But there was something about them that he found reassuring. Maybe it was the association with Emma. That calming presence. The one that had managed to pull him out of the spiral. Even if it meant drinking yam instead of rum.

Killian's phone went off as he reached his bedroom. Moving into it he threw the phone from his back pocket onto the bed and pulled off his clothing, flopping onto the mattress in his boxers, juice bottle in hand. After opening the juice and taking a swig of the bitter liquid, he opened the phone to find a text from Emma.

 _I swear the Nolan's aren't vegan. No dietary restrictions at all. Save for Leo who's just a picky kid._

Killian rolled his eyes but was very relieved to hear that. _Thanks for the heads up. What time should I be there?_

 _4:00? They need to eat when Leo's ready._

 _Ahh. So I'm to be on my best behaviour with the child?_

 _Like you wouldn't have been already,_ came Emma's quick answer. And she was right. Killian was determined to charm the Nolan's and win the heart of Leo. Killian was a rockstar and he was British. And rather dashing if he did say so himself. A triple threat of charm.

Of course, just in case he didn't impress them on charm and manners alone (because honestly, there was only so much of the anxiety and shit he could hide behind a grin and a wink) he needed plan B. Which was why, at precisely 4:00 he was standing on the door step of David and Mary Margaret Nolan's picture perfect house carrying both one of those fancy glass bottles of Italian soda and a wrapped present for Leo.

Go for the kid. An easy target. At least with him and Emma on his side, the battle would partially be won.

Killian knocked on the door with the hand that held the present and waited. He really hoped he didn't look as exhausted as his sleepless night had left him. Because even with the Charming Plan, he was nervous. Nervous because David had been one of the cops to arrest him. Had seen him at the lowest low- or one of them, Killian didn't really feel like ordering them. Knew the story of what had gone on with the detox with Emma. Probably knew Killian yelled at her about Neal. Probably knew it all. And hated him for it.

Probably believed he wasn't good enough for Emma. Which he wasn't. Killian knew that. Killian knew that after all the shit Emma had been through in her life she didn't need him. She didn't need the baggage. The pain. The weakness. The publicity. But she'd chosen to allow him into her life and Killian was too damn selfish to allow her to break clean. Killian had spent most of the night bracing for the talk with David that would end in him instructing Killian to, in no short terms, get lost.

As if he wasn't lost already in a sea of regrets and bad life decisions, barely holding on to the rope Emma had thrown to him.

It was a really good job that Killian had lots of practice in fake smiling when the door opened up and a petite black haired lady beamed up at him.

"Oh, you must be Killian! Of course you are, I've seen your picture before!" The lady pulled Killian into a hug, far stronger than he had prepared for. A blush creeped its way up Killian's cheeks at the thought of Emma's family googling him. Had she found the pictures of him in his glory days, happy, healthy and whole? Or had she found the ones of him falling off a bar stool, vomiting into a ditch, wooing a different woman each night?

"Mary Margaret!" Emma barked from behind the lady. "Calm down." The door opened a little wider to reveal Emma, rolling her eyes at her friend's actions. She put out her hand, pulling Mary Margaret away.

"Sorry," the other woman blushed. "Let me go find David and Leo."

When Mary Margaret had bustled off, Emma gave a tentative little smile. "Hi."

"Hi," Killian answered, wishing he had a hand free to scratch at his ear.

"Ignore Mary, she gets a little excited. She already loves you, only because she says, 'I'm happier now than I've been in years.'" Emma did little air quotes around Mary Margaret's words, blushing as they slipped from her lips.

"I'm glad to hear it," Killian replied before Emma could redact the words or hide. If her friends were realizing she was happy, after such a short time of knowing each other, something had to be going right. _Right?_ "You look lovely lass."

"Thanks," Emma answered, blushing even more. She truly did look lovely, even with the reddish tinge on her face and colouring her chest. She wore a thin knit v-neck sweater in a deep green colour and dark wash skinny jeans, bright coloured socks casing her feet. Blonde hair fell down her shoulders, curling slightly. It was simple, but it was Emma.

Killian held up the items in his hands. Emma took the lemonade from his hand, admiring the fancy glass bottle and label that had absolutely no English on it. It had seemed a decent alternative to the bottle of wine he would have normally brought. But the Nolan's knew about his alcoholism so it wasn't like there was a point in hiding it.

"You didn't need to do that!" Emma admonished lightly, motioning to the present in his hand when she looked up from the soda.

Before Killian could reply there was a commotion behind Emma and a little boy came barrelling out of the side room. "Is that for me?" he exclaimed, blonde hair all over his forehead in messy disarray. The boy, in all the childish innocence, pulled up right at Killian's feet, between Emma and he, staring up at the blue package in Killian's hand. David and Mary Margaret followed the child, looking both embarrassed and completely unsurprised.

Instead of facing David and the inevitable kicking out of the house, Killian bent to the child. "Of course it is," Killian grinned at the boy. There had been a time where he'd desperately wanted one of his own. And with the boy's blonde hair it was easy to picture the child was Emma's.

 _Cart before the horse. Way before the horse._

Killian shook himself and offered the package to Leo. "My name's Killian and I've been told yours is Leo. I heard all about you from Emma. And I thought- if someone was that special to Emma, who's very special to me, then he definitely deserves a present the first time we meet." Leo giggled, clearly delighted and stuck out his pudgy little fingers for the present. Killian set it into his hands with an elaborate flourish that got a full laugh from the boy and a snort from Emma.

Leo took the package and went to start ripping into it. But before he could, Mary Margaret had swooped in, stilling his hand. Killian glanced up at the mother. She didn't seem upset that Killian had attempted to bribe her son into liking him. Instead she gave him a warm smile. "Leo, what do you say?"

The boy turned back to Killian, looking properly chagrined. "Thank you, Mr. Killy."

"You're very welcome, lad," Killian answered before standing, his knees protesting from the crouch. Leo turned and dashed away, the sounds of ripping paper filling the hallway. With a groan, Mary Margaret disappeared again to make sure Leo was behaving and not just throwing paper everywhere. That left just David and Emma in the hallway with him. Was this how Emma had felt the day before with Eric?

"Welcome to the chaos," David said, breaking the silence between the trio. Killian glanced at him with a nod and small smile, scared to look at him too long in case he saw the confirmation in David's eyes of what he feared.

"At least we're not putting on a false front," Emma laughed, reaching out and grasping his elbow. "Come on, I want to see what you got Leo."

Killian tried not to tense as he passed David in the hallway, half expecting the man to grab him by the neck and throw him against the wall. But nothing untoward happened as Killian followed Emma into a bright yellow play room, small chairs in one corner and a proper sized sofa along one wall. Bins of brightly coloured toys were stacked in a cubby on the opposite wall and a chalkboard lined the wall beside the sofa at the proper height for a toddler and covered in very abstract art that could probably sell for millions at MOMA.

Leo sat on the floor beside his mother, pulling the box from his wrapping. The boy audibly gasped when he revealed the box of brightly coloured floating boats for bath time that Killian had found at a boutique close to his house. Killian hadn't had any idea what to buy for Leo, this kid who was supposed to be the child of Disney parents, so he'd just looked for something he would have wanted as a child had his parents had more money for such frivolities.

"Can I have a bath tonight, Momma?" Leo asked, trying to get his short fingers into the boy to pry it open.

Instead of answering Leo, she helped him open the box and looked up at Killian with a surprised laugh. "I swear, if this actually makes Leo want to bathe, I'll love you forever." Leo giggled happily as he ran his finger along the orange hull of the first boat in the kit. "Honestly, this kid hates the bath. It's at least a two-hour struggle. I've never heard him ask for one before. You're a lifesaver."

Killian didn't know how to answer because the relief flowing through him was so strong he could barely breathe. Killian had actually made the right call. Had actually, potentially, made their lives easier with just one toy. It was almost hard to believe. Leo giggled again and Killian's cheeks split into a grin, caught up in the sound. Two down, one to go for his Nolan Charming Plan.

"See, they're not that bad," Emma whispered into his ear.

"David's still glaring at the door," Killian muttered back.

"Yeah, well, I'll talk to him. Sometimes David forgets that he's not my father." Emma shot an annoyed glance towards the doorway where David leaned, arms crossed over his chest and brow furrowed.

"I don't want to come between you. You're family."

"I don't have blood family. Just who I choose. Which means I'm choosing you too. They need to all get on this train with me. Remember what we talked about yesterday?"

I _made my choices. I regret a lot of them, but I'll never, ever regret you, Swan. You and I? We have an adventure to go on here. Eric is just one part of my life, but I want a whole life with you._

Just like the other few times Emma had been totally candid with her feelings, Killian felt the whooping joy deep in his belly. The reminder that Emma truly felt something for him. The reminder. The promise.

"Okay, I remember," he answered.

Emma nodded firmly. "Good. I'll be right back." Emma pushed off the couch and marched towards the door, grabbing David's arm and towing him away. Killian chewed down on his lips. Was a scene about to be made? Would David get angry and kick him out?

"Ignore David," Mary Margaret said, looking up from Leo. Killian hadn't thought she could hear the whispered conversation he'd just had with Emma and his cheeks blushed fiercely as he realized he was wrong. Mary Margaret stood and crossed the floor to the couch, settling gracefully down beside him. "You know about Neal right?" Killian nodded. "Well David feels really guilty about that. Even though he wasn't in Emma's life at that point. David's got this Prince Charming hero complex. Thinks he needs to save Emma from everything and I think he's taking out that on you."

"I don't want to upset their relationship," Killian answered uncertainly, nearly jumping in surprise when Mary Margaret grabbed his hand.

"Nothing could tear those two apart. This is a lesson David needs to learn. Emma's actually starting to be happy again. It's not an instant fix. But the clouds are parting. David sometimes just needs to get hit in the head with a rock of truth to see things."

"Thank you," Killian replied, feeling the tense knot in his chest ease again as relief seeped through him. Things would be okay. Someday everything would be okay.

Mary Margaret patted the top of his hand before slipping to the floor again to help Leo play with his new boats. Killian leaned back against the cushions to watch. Leo was obviously a happy child, babbling to his mother as he told her some story about the fleet of ships lying in front of him. Once again Killian was struck with how much he wanted that himself. How much he wanted a little lad or lass to play with and love and cherish. Give the world to. Maybe someday, years down the road, Emma would allow him that. A part of the adventure they were promising each other to go on together.

A few minutes into watching Captain Leo, Emma returned. David followed her, looking a mix of protective and chagrined. Like Emma had read him the riot act intensely enough that she broke through some of David's protective outer layer.

"Dinner's ready," David called, going over to help his wife up then picking Leo up to place on his hip.

"Did that go alright?" Killian asked quietly as they followed the Nolan's to a dining room off the kitchen.

Emma nodded. "David may take some warming up the idea but he won't throw the potatoes at you."

"Well, I'll consider that as a victory."

"Me too," Emma laughed.

But the victories hadn't stopped there. David actually spoke to Killian at the table, thanking him for passing the pot roast and being completely mannerly. Despite the small talk between the men being a little strained, at least Killian wasn't ducking and covering. And David actually shook his hand as Killian left the house after dinner, seeming so relieved that Killian had cracked the code to Leo's bath time that he couldn't let Killian go without at least some showing of gratitude. Maybe someday they'd get to a point where they could chat about sports together and fist bump like the friendships on TV. Maybe. Killian wasn't holding his breath at this point.

Killian would just have to prove himself to David. It may take years but for Emma's sake Killian would do it. In truth, the longer Killian was around Emma, the more he realized he'd do anything for her. Go to the end of the world or time. Even if that meant grovelling for acceptance at the feet of Officer David Nolan.


	26. Suspended

_A/N:_ Look who actually finished a chapter on time! I hope you enjoyed the fluff while it lasted. I also really hope this chapter came out as emotional and frantic as I wanted it to. This chapter has a lot of cursing and vulgar language in it if that bothers you. Thank you so much for all the support. Let me know what you think! Enjoy!

Warning: This chapter contains mentions of alcohol abuse, past child abuse and vulgar language.

Disclaimer: All aspects of Once Upon A Time belongs to ABC and the show's creators.

Emma still really couldn't believe how the weekend had gone. It had actually gone well. No major snafus besides the two food mistakes. Leo still hadn't stopped talking about Mr. Killy three days later, which for a child with a goldfish's memory, was pretty impressive. No one had been slapped. David hadn't pulled his gun. No one got food poisoning or alcohol poisoning. It was pretty much normal. Which was totally not normal for Emma and she was trying to not let that freak her out.

What did it mean that she could be normal with someone?

That no matter how fucked she was things were still okay?

That they could accept each other and move on?

Go on an adventure together?

Fuck, that scared her.

She and Killian had texted each day since the day but that was it as their schedules were too busy for them to meet again. But honestly, the space had been enough for Emma to calm down again, keep trying to play it cool and not think about how easy the weekend had been. Emma had gone back to work, busy tracking down little shits breaking the windows of local stores through her stint of nightshifts and sleeping most of the day after dragging her exhausted body back to her apartment afterwards. David had followed her one of the days, too exhausted to drive home. What had been just a regular check had turned into a foot chase after they ended up in the right place at the right time and found the delinquent teens. Killian worked an opposite schedule to Emma, recording Chipped Tea Cup during the day and filling Regina's social media presence requirements during the evening.

Someday, if things worked out, Emma knew she'd have to become a part of the social media storm. Someday she'd have followers for no other reason that she was _Killian Jones's_ significant other. And because she was attractive and there were creepy people out there. Emma tried not to think about those ones, or what they might do while eating Zoodles and looking at her Instagram. Because there was no way Emma could avoid it if they went public (if Killian wanted to make this public). Not with Regina holding the reigns until the last CD contract was up. People would find out about her. About her shady past and still questionable present. Because people who wanted to bring them down, those Internet trolls who just liked to see people suffer, would find that. And spread it all over the media. And push it in Killian's face, as if he were the stupidest person alive for being attracted to Emma.

 _I made my choices. I regret a lot of them, but I'll never, ever regret you, Swan._

Oh, she should have recorded that conversation from Eric's couch. Her mind could only cement the reminder so much. Maybe someday she'd ask Killian to repeat what he'd said into her phone's microphone. And definitely _pretend_ to be mad when he made his accent thicker because that nervous flirt came out again.

But for the first time in a solid year, life was good. Happy. But more importantly, promising. There was the promise that she could heal from all her shit. That she wouldn't be alone. That she could have more people in her life than just David and Mary Margaret and that those relationships didn't have to be suffuse with guilt. Everything wasn't all good. Not yet. Killian was healing and Emma had miles to go before she felt deserving of anything good. But this weekend had been a good taste of life if she let herself heal. Move on from what happened to Neal. Started thinking about more than just protecting herself and building walls.

It was hard to believe all that had come from agreeing to let a drunk rock star into her apartment to detox.

That he'd actually trusted her to stay safe in her apartment.

That she knew what she was doing.

Saw her as more than a shattered past.

Saw her as something with promise.

Emma's head was practically spinning as she walked into work Thursday afternoon for an early evening shift. Killian had just sent her a text that he was on his way home from the recording studio, wishing her a good shift. It was so normal, yet for Emma, that was beyond expectations. It made her grin, ducking her chin into the collar of her uniform so those passing her in the hall didn't see. This was new and private and Emma didn't need anyone in her office thinking she finally had something good in her life. Because that was when things got ruined.

David hadn't arrived yet when Emma entered the bullpen, the place busy as the shift changed and officers signed in and out. Yet, despite the large number of officers in the bullpen, there was a strange hush to the room. Maybe someone had caught someone big, someone higher up in the drug cartel than a runner or low-level salesperson and people were waiting on word. Maybe the brass was in and people didn't want to get caught cursing each other out for cheering for the wrong football team. Emma frowned slightly and plopped down in her chair to wait for David, hanging her cap on the back.

After the last year Emma had a deep mistrust for the brass. Because, while she'd made her own mistakes- and Emma was amazing at dwelling on how fucked she really was so she knew her mistakes- but the heads of the department had been a little too quick to judge her and think of her as some drug dealer's prostitute, payed for information about the department. Yes, Emma had been given the choice of staying on in Homicide during the internal investigation into her corruption but it was made pretty clear before the investigation had even started that Emma was a whore. Was in a drug dealer's pocket. Was emotionally compromised because she was in love with Neal Cassidy. Was a dirty cop. It was all already decided. And Emma had so little self worth that she didn't fight. Didn't stick around so the investigators could find out that Emma hadn't talked to Neal Cassidy in years. Had been betrayed by him and actually was the one who reported him to the police to be arrested. But after years in the foster system, Emma had learned she couldn't make a difference in this type of situation. That she had no power as some broken throw-away. So Emma did the one thing she'd always had the power to do. She'd run. This time it hadn't been about her running from a home to a bus stop. This time she'd run to Patrol. Because the investigators couldn't judge her then. She would just be a transfer. Leave the rumours behind in Homicide.

Hands slammed down on the desk in front of Emma. She glanced up from her phone to see Officer Greg Mendel, resident douche, standing over her. Greg's stubbled cheek was pulled up in a smirk. That didn't bode well.

"Can I help you?" Emma asked, not in the mood for her good morning to be ruined by that shit of an officer. Because Greg was shifty. Emma really didn't care that people spread rumors about her and she was judging Greg. Because yeah, Emma had issues. But she'd actually seen Greg make moves on the women that were brought in for prostitution. Honestly, in just the year she'd been in patrol Emma could have brought him down multiple times for being a John and offering pay for sex. But she didn't because Emma just wanted to keep her head down. Stay away from Greg and his partner Tamara and their posy of weird friends that all got along way too well with the Captain. And, ultimately, keeping her head down was to keep David clean. She owed him that.

"I don't know; why would I want help from a drug fucker?"

Emma tensed, her mind whirling to process the words. No. No. _No._ That was all Greg needed to say for Emma to know why the bullpen had been so quiet when she'd arrived. Because it wasn't a drug dealer who had been caught. It had been her. This wasn't happening. Not now. Not when everything was finally good. All eyes were on her, she could feel them, despite only glaring at Greg. "Excuse me?" Her voice shook a bit as she spat the words out at a low volume, more hiss than anything. Defense. She needed to set the record straight.

"Drug fucker. Drug dealer lover. Same thing. Was talking to someone from Homicide today after a case was called in from my area. The officer asked about how a certain dirty cop who was now in patrol was doing. And to my surprise, guess who that guy was talking about? Our very own Officer Emma Swan."

"Whatever that person told you, it isn't correct." Emma tried to keep her chin up, tried to keep her voice even.

"Why would I believe you? I came back and looked you up. Found out you grew up in the foster system. How you ran away at sixteen. Troubled kid. Anger issues. No one ever wanted you." Greg gave her a menacing smile and dragged his finger across her desk. Emma fought the tightening in her muscles, trying to force her to run. Everyone was watching. If she ran now she'd be fucked and there really was no where else to run. No other department would take her.

"I mean, it's no wonder you're the hooker for the cartel after all that. Do you run shit from evidence for them in exchange for some sort of payment?" Greg waggled his eyebrows lewdly, his idea of payment needing nothing more than that to be explained.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Emma blurted, standing, meeting Greg in the eye with her glare. The initial shock and panic was starting to get replaced by anger. "How dare you imply I'm some criminal? I know no one on the cartel. And I'm certainly not some hussy for them." Emma sucked in a deep breath, anger too far gone now to real back to a sensible territory. "Honestly, I'm surprised people aren't calling you the criminal for the way you try to get the prostitutes in the cell to come home with you. Promise you won't turn them in."

"You bitch," Greg spat back, face reddening. Caught.

"Yeah, and you're a fucking hypocrite," Emma returned. "Calling me dirty when I'm not, yet I've seen you actually pull shit around here."

"Oh, come on, Emma," Tamara started, leaning back in her desk chair, feet on her desk. Of course she would come to her partner's defense now that Emma had actually played the criminal card. Where was David to do the same for Emma? "Greg passed around your files. Should have had those sealed. Now we all know what kind of person you are. How you were labeled volatile and dangerous. Troubled. How you should have been charged for stealing as a teen for cleaning out your foster dad's wallet and then running. Don't know how you got off on that one. Must have a lucky streak a mile long." Emma got off on that one because in exchange for the man agreeing not to press charges, Emma promised not to tell anyone he tried to touch her and that was what had caused her to run. That wasn't luck, that was her only option to stay out of juvie. "You're just a little criminal."

"Or a big one," another one of Greg's friends, Felix Chase put in. "I mean; Neal Cassidy was running with the big dogs. And you were fucking him. Were you going to marry him? Have his babies? A white picket fence down in Tallahassee or some other bullshit fairy-tale?"

Emma's stomach revolted. Because at one point that was exactly what she'd wanted. Down to Florida and all. Damn files. But that was before. Before the betrayal and Neal showed his true colours. Before Emma moved on and pulled her shit together. "I had no plans with Neal Cassidy. That man could have stayed and rotted in jail for all I cared."

"Why? Were conjugal visits that fun?" another cop, Peter Malcolm asked. Emma shot him the bird but before she could respond her name rang out over the insults.

"Emma Swan, my office. Now." Everyone turned to where the brass and Emma's station captain had just come out of the tiny office in the back of the room. Emma's heart jumped into her chest. This had to be about what the officers had been saying. As part of her deal to go to patrol, Homicide had promised not to say anything about the rumours. A way to make the transition smooth and keep David clean. But by the stern looks on the faces of the brass, they'd heard everything, if Greg hadn't already thrown her file onto the captain's desk himself. This was the other shoe dropping. That one she was starting to think didn't exist after such a good weekend, after finally pulling her life together. Yet here was the ten-thousand-pound shoe crushing her under the weight of a misunderstood past.

Where was David? David always kept a cool head. She needed David. David knew the whole story. David could help her explain. Protect her. Had helped explain everything last time. Had pulled her from the Neal murder spiral and got her back into shape to actually be a cop again. But David wasn't there. And Emma was royally fucked.

Straightening, trying to seem as proud as she could, she moved out from behind the desk and marched towards the office. The whole way hisses and whispers were thrown her way. _How much intel did a fingering cost you? Dirty cop. Pig. Crooked. Slut. Fucked._ It was all Emma could do to make it to the office without doubling over.

The Captain, a stern man by the name of Hans von Steuter, pursed his lips at her. Hans took his seat, as did the two other brass from central office, men Emma didn't know, moved to stand behind him.

"Well, Emma, I can't say this is a pleasant meeting."

Emma ran a tongue across her teeth, mouth dry. Be professional. Be an adult. Greg is outside. Not in here. "I can assure you that nothing they are saying is true."

"Honestly, Emma, I'd like to trust you right away. But I called Homicide and they told me what happened over there."

"None of that was substantiated."

"Yet, you left anyway." The implication was there. The same one that had coloured everything at homicide. The one caused by her tendency to run before anything, no matter what.

"In an attempt to keep David out of the mess of an internal investigation. I'm a clean cop, good at my job. It was easier to just leave and start fresh."

Hans was quiet for a few moments, processing. "Honestly, I wish it were that easy. I do know you're a skilled cop and David is one of our best. But I can't let this go. Not when there's been such anger stirred up among the ranks here."

"That was Greg," Emma burst out, waving a hand back in the direction of the bullpen, loosing her cool momentarily. "Greg spread my old files from the foster system, told everybody, was out there telling lies to my face."

"Does Greg have a reason to do such a thing?" one of the brass, a stern looking, nearly bald man, asked.

Emma shrugged, helplessly searching for a reason that would convince them Greg was full of lies. She came up empty of anything in specific. "Greg's vile. Doesn't need a reason to do anything."

Greg was the kind of person who as a kid would have fried ants with a magnifying glass.

And kept the bodies.

"That isn't a good enough reason," the brass returned. Obviously the man had never actually met Greg.

"That's not my fault," Emma practically shouted back. The brass stepped back, startled at her outburst. Scanning the room, she noticed a file on Hans's desk marked EMMA SWAN. It was thinner than she knew her full file to be, probably cherry picked to paint a terrible picture. "It's all lies. But I can't convince you of that because you've read what Greg gave you."

Hans at least had the dignity to look chagrined at that. But he didn't disagree with her. Instead he placed his palm on the file and pulled it closer to him. As if that would keep her from knowing that the file wasn't complete and from fighting him over the obvious skewed information. "Emma, I can't have a department that's got so much dissent in it. You're the central point. I'm sorry, but, we need to conduct an investigation. It's the only thing that will settle the station down. You'll be suspended with pay until the investigation proves you're innocent or otherwise."

Emma stood, willing back the tears. Everything she'd worked for. Everything she'd sacrificed for to pull herself out of her rough beginnings and become a cop, to help those who needed it, was gone. Everything David had sacrificed to stay with her was in vain. She was suspended. And even though they weren't saying it, Emma was pretty sure they saw her exactly as the Homicide brass did.

"Will David be okay?" The last thing Emma needed to know. Because she'd left Homicide to keep David safe. She needed to keep David clean in this investigation too. She wouldn't fight anymore if David stayed safe.

Hans nodded. "David is higher ranking and was largely unaware of the Cassidy case. We'll leave him out of this. David will be placed with a new partner if he decides to stay in Patrol."

A breath rushed from Emma. At least David was safe. Was free. No longer attached to her shit. David could go back to Homicide, his dream job. Emma gave Hans and the brass a quick, hard nod then turned.

Emma reached for the door, back stiff with tension. Just then the door burst open and a frantic looking David rushed in, nearly slamming Emma. "Captain Hans, Corporals, please, this is all a misunderstanding," he panted. "Emma's a good cop and an amazing person. This is unsubstantiated."

Emma held up a silencing hand. She tried not to be mad at David. Hell, she'd decided to leave to keep him safe. It wasn't his job to save her. But David was always going on about protecting her and giving her the best, so it was hard not to be resentful that the one time she really needed him to keep her job, he was late for work. She knew this mess wasn't David's fault, it was her own and Greg's. David was safe. But she couldn't even look at him. Not yet. "It's too late, David," she muttered, brushing past him. "You can't save me this time."

Emma marched as quickly as she could out of the office. Behind her David argued with the brass and dirty words were tossed her way from the other cops. But it didn't matter. Because it was too late. And they would keep David from the investigation so he really didn't have much ground to stand on to fight within the investigation anyway. Emma had no ground to stand on. Emma had become exactly what they thought of her. Simply because she was never good enough for anything. Not even for people to give her the benefit of the doubt.

As soon as Emma was out of the bullpen she was running. Running through the parking lot and to her car. Doing the one thing she was actually good at. She needed to get out of there before David showed up. Before she broke down. She needed to get somewhere safe.

She just wanted to be held.

To be somewhere where she wasn't seen as a total fuck up.

As a dirty cop.

As a write off.

A near juvenile offender.

She needed to go somewhere where she was just Emma.

Where she could process the events of the last half hour.

Where she could cry.

Where she wouldn't be seen as weak for finally just giving in for a few moments.

She just wasn't strong enough to pull through this Neal mess a second time. Not unscathed.

There was really only one place that she could go.

Without really thinking as to what her choice of destination meant, Emma started driving, chewing her cheek to keep the tears back enough that she could see the road. She forced her mind blank because the minute she started thinking about what had happened was the minute it got harder to breathe. And she needed to make it to her shelter.

Somehow that determination succeeded and in thirty minutes Emma was at her destination. Of course she shouldn't have been surprised as she punched in the security key into the pad near the gate. Emma always had been good at running. It was her best skill.

Emma stumbled out of her car and up the stone pathway to the front door of the mansion. She didn't knock or ring the bell, just pulled open the door.

"Hello?" a voice shouted from off to one side, the music room. "Who's there?" Running feet sounded across the hardwood and then Killian appeared, wearing sweats and an old tour t-shirt, eyes wide in surprise and worry. When he realized who'd just practically broke into his house he rushed forward. "Emma? What's wrong, lass?"

Emma gave a single shake of her head and then fell to her knees. "It's over. They all know about Neal." And then she burst into body wracking sobs. So hard that she was rendered immobile. So hard that all Killian could do was sink down beside her and hold her to his chest.


	27. Capable, or at Least Able to Buy Takeout

_A/N:_ This chapter wasn't actually supposed to end here. But then it just felt right. With that line from two episodes ago it worked. And I think the future comfort seeking and processing would be really interesting from Emma's perspective. Hope you agree that this is okay. I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! Enjoy!

Warning: Contains mentions of alcohol abuse.

Disclaimer: All aspects of Once Upon A Time belong to ABC and the show's creators.

Emma bawled.

Killian quaked. Potentially from Emma's body wracking sobs. Or maybe from the anxiety. It didn't matter at this point.

Both collapsed onto the hard floor of the entryway.

Mind spinning, trying to make sense of what she'd said.

 _It's over. They all know about Neal._

When his front door had opened, Emma was the last person he'd expected. She was supposed to be at work. All night. So Killian, knowing she'd be out of touch until she woke in the morning, had resigned himself to a quiet night at home. A night in front of the tv, Post Mated dinner, guitar in his lap. Maybe he'd finally write that song he'd been calling _Phoenix Bridge_ in his mind. Killian's guitar was actually still on the floor in the living room from where he'd practically dropped it to run out to check the door, half expecting some fan to have jumped the front gate.

At this point Killian wished it was a fan and not the woman who meant more than anything to him completely breaking down in his arms. Did her words mean the police station found out about what had happened with Neal? That had to have been the answer. But what did over mean? Had Emma panicked and run prematurely or had she been confronted? Anger boiled in his veins at the thought of people attacking Emma for mistakes of the past. Emma, the woman who'd nursed him through a withdrawal from years of bad mistakes without batting an eye. Emma, who viewed her own mistakes as the worst thing that a person could have ever done. The last thing she needed was someone else reminding her of what she felt to be her biggest short comings. It just wasn't _fair._ She was Emma. _Beautiful, strong Emma._ Why couldn't the world see what Killian did?

Killian didn't know how long they sat on the floor. Emma cradled in his arms, soaking his shirt with her tears. All he knew was that eventually she quieted, the sobs no longer nearing something akin to a scream, now just a snuffling as the tears leaked slower. Her body still shook, vibrating enough that it hurt Killian's thin chest.

"Emma, love?" Killian murmured, after Emma had been silent for a while. She didn't say anything and her staying in his arms, especially as he realized he'd let slip the endearment love instead of the usual lass he was so careful to use around the skittish woman, was the biggest sign for Killian that something had gone terribly wrong that day. Killian and Emma may have been together, Emma may have seen Killian sicker than he thought possible, but even after all that, holding Emma as she cried out her soul was the last thing Killian could ever have predicted they would do together. And yet she'd come to him for comfort. Instead of the Nolan's or retreating to her own apartment, that safe castle she kept for herself. "Emma? Do you think you'd be okay if I took you somewhere more comfortable?"

"I don't want to leave. I want to stay here with you." Emma's voice was a whisper, nearly a breath. Killian tried not to let the anxiety overwhelm him at the emotion in her voice and how out of character this was for her. This was about Emma, not his problems. And oh, how he wanted to help her.

"You don't have to leave, lass," he said gently, carefully. "But this is a large house. I have many a space more comfortable than this wood floor."

"Oh," she hiccupped out, face brushing against his shoulder.

"I can lend you something more comfortable? Get you out of this uniform then we can order some supper and figure this out?" Killian waited, barely breathing. At this point Killian couldn't predict what she would want. Killian just wanted somehow to make this better. To make life better for her as she had for him. But Emma was strong where Killian wasn't. Killian had no idea what he was doing. It had always been Liam to care for him. Killian was the one with the shitty coping methods and emotional responses. And then there had been Emma to pull him out of the liquor saturated hole he'd dug himself. This was a totally different situation then what Emma had done for him so it wasn't like he could copy. And there definitely wasn't a WikiHow article for it.

At this point all he could do was make her comfortable and keep from coming to pieces when she obviously needed him so badly.

"I did soak your shirt," she whispered, glancing up at him. By rubbing her face against his shoulder, she'd smudges the already running mascara all across her cheeks. "You'll want to change too."

"Aye," Killian laughed, relieved that she'd agreed to let him get her off the floor. Killian stood first, body protesting. They must have been on the ground for nearly an hour considering the pain sitting in his lower back. Once Killian was up he grasped Emma's wrists and helped her up, steadying her. Once again, Emma leaned against his chest. Emma needing his support so much, seeking it out constantly, warmed his heart despite the serious nature of the evening. Killian looped his arm around her shoulders, holding her to him. "Come Swan, to my lair and collection of t-shirts."

"Am I gonna wear some three-hundred-dollar t-shirt now?" Emma asked, a little lightness sneaking into her tear-roughened voice.

"Hardly," Killian responded, leading her up the stairs. "Do you think Regina would let me have those when I was too far often sleeping in bars?" Killian knew without seeing her that she rolled her eyes at his self-depreciation. "But if you're lucky, I'll let you have my old high school band shirt."

"You still have that?"

"How old do you take me for?" Killian asked, pretending to be offended as they climbed the stairs.

"Like 300?" Emma answered.

"Twenty-seven darling, only a few years older than you."

"Still older." Now it was Killian's turn to roll his eyes.

"Well if you won't appreciate the softness, I'll keep it for myself."

"Oh, it's mine now," Emma quipped back, relaxing a bit more the longer Killian held her. "Shouldn't have offered if you didn't want to lose it."

"You're the only person I'd stand losing it to," Killian responded. It was hard not to picture Emma strolling through the house in the t-shirt that had once been canary yellow and nothing else. Oh, how Killian wanted that someday. Especially if he were to get a taste of it now. But before Emma could think of a response, and to save her from one if Killian had been a little too open, he waved his arm, presenting his bedroom.

"Here's where the magic happens," Killian muttered, self-consciously.

"You probably shouldn't lie when you've already told me you didn't sleep here for years."

"You caught me, lass." Killian led her to the walk-in closet, shifting his arm from her shoulder to her hand. She grasped tightly, winding her fingers through his. That was all the clue Killian needed to know she was forcing the light talk. The pain was still rolling through her. Maybe she was holding on to Killian in an attempt to stay afloat. Together. Whole. Or as whole as Emma felt she could be.

The closet was large, long and wide enough that several people could most likely sleep in it. Two of the walls had shelves and drawers set into it while the third was two rods with all manner of black jeans, jackets and sweaters. Obnoxious like everything else in his house. But it served a purpose. Always appearances.

Emma moved in behind him, releasing his hand so she could explore a bit more. "Wow. It's like a mall in here," Emma muttered, running her hands across the shelf of Henley's.

"If you really like the colour black," Killian returned pulling out the drawer which held his old t-shirts. He grabbed the yellow one he'd promised Emma and an old tour shirt for himself. There was a hole in the corner from where he'd burnt it on a cigarette in some after concert party and a few rum stains but it was on the top and Killian was too distracted watching Emma examine all his clothing, as if taking stock of his various masks.

"You have leather pants?" Emma asked, snorting out a laugh as she pulled them from the coat hanger.

Killian puffed out his chest, feigning indignation. "I'll have you know, love, I cut quite the dashing figure in those pants."

"And your ego can fit in them?" she asked skeptically, holding the pants up towards his body.

Before Killian could reply the buzzer to the front gate sounded through the otherwise silent house. The buzz of the PA clicked through the speaker in the hall before a voice of whoever was outside could be heard.

"Killian? Is Emma with you?" It was David. Sounding extremely worried. Emma immediately shrunk back, any sign of the humour of the leather pants, currently in a white knuckled hold in her hands, was gone. That broken shell returned, and had she not already sobbed for an hour, she would have been crying again. But there was just nothing left.

"I can see her car but I don't know if she's here or if she took off again. Look, I need to find her."

Emma shook her head, lip trembling. No, she wouldn't be going to see David. But how did David, the man Emma saw as family, play into this? To the level where she would refuse to see him. Killian stepped closer to her, laying a gentle hand on hers to try to get her to release the pants before she hurt herself. Or ripped them in half. As soon as he touched her, the pants slid to the ground with a leathery clap.

"I'll go talk to him, okay?" Killian asked gently. "Explain you're safe and then send him on his way? Then we can get back to us?" Emma only nodded, still shrinking back into herself. "There are sweatpants in the bottom drawer. Get changed, eh?" With that Killian pressed a kiss to her cheek, handed over the yellow t-shirt and left the closet.

On his way out of the bedroom he pulled off the soaked t-shirt, tossing it towards the corner of the room in an attempt to hit the hamper, and tugged on the old tour shirt in his place. The last thing Killian wanted was to leave Emma alone but she obviously wouldn't be comfortable again until David was gone. Killian didn't bother hitting the button to open the gate, instead letting himself out the front door and padding the way down the driveway in his socks. Killian was scared letting David in would make it impossible to leave. At least keeping the gate closed would keep David outside of his house until he could come up with a plausible excuse to get a search warrant.

David was out of his SUV, hands around the gate, watching tensely as Killian neared.

"Where's Emma?" David called when Killian was a few feet away. The man looked like shit, that Prince Charming, calm, cool and collected aesthetic gone. David's face was pale, muscles tense, all hard body lines showing through his uniform.

"She's inside," Killian answered, coming to a stop in front of the man, the gate between them.

"Then why am I still out here?" David asked, irritation flaring.

"Because Emma doesn't want to see you," Killian replied plainly. "And her comfort is my number one priority right now."

At that David visibly deflated, hands slipping from the gate bars and the tension sagging out from his shoulders. But not in relief. In recognition of some failure Killian didn't yet understand.

"What happened, mate?" Killian asked, taking a step closer. "All I know is I just held Emma as she cried for over an hour. And all she said was that they found out about Neal. Who's they?" When David didn't answer immediately Killian cursed, scratching at his hair. "Look, I know you may not like me but I can't help her if I don't know what's wrong and right now, I'm the one she wants to be around."

David sighed. "They is the police station. One of the officers, this asshole who's always had it out for anyone in the station that wasn't himself, found out. Emma was coming up for promotion. Her nomination for promotion had just been announced to those higher up in the ranks. She was long due but the issue at homicide slowed her down. I knew but I wasn't going to tell her yet. I was saving it to reveal at a surprise party Mary Margaret was planning. Somehow Greg found out and when he heard about what had happened at homicide decided it was his job to destroy her prospects because some friend of his was also in the running. Greg looked up her history- like the foster care one." Killian cursed, rage boiling inside as he listened to David tell the story. "I guess he called in a favour to get it. There was some shady stuff in there that Emma had to do to survive, some near arrests. And then he accessed all the Neal stuff himself. Put it together in this sick biography and made sure everyone at the station read it. When Emma showed up to work there was some really terrible things said to her from the other officers. I don't know what was all said. I wasn't there."

"Where were you?" Killian hissed out before he could stop himself. Objectively, Killian knew it wasn't David's fault. But he was feeling useless, having had no idea any of this was going on. David was the one she worked with. Killian couldn't be with her all the time to protect her as she'd protected him. David was supposed to be there when he couldn't be.

David dropped his head in shame. "Leo's sick. Didn't want me to leave so I was late. By the time I'd arrived she'd already been suspended."

"Suspended?" The word felt like poison.

"Greg stirred up too much dissent and anger. They suspended her during this new investigation they're opening to ensure she's not dirty." Killian couldn't even speak; the anger was so strong. Emma, the cop who'd tried everything to get away from the accusations before, had left her post to save David from the reputation as well, had lost it all. "I tried to argue it. Honestly, I did. But I couldn't change their mind. The damage had already been done. The investigation won't find anything but her reputation's ruined." David took a deep, shaky breath, before looking back at him with pleading eyes. "Killian, you have to believe me. I tried to fix this."

Now, Killian deflated. Of course, David would have fought for Emma. Killian knew David would do anything for her. It was just the anger and helplessness that made him think differently. "I know, Dave. I know."

"She hates me. I'm the one who's supposed to look after her. But I messed up."

"It's not your fault, David," Killian argued. "Like you said, you tried. There was nothing you could do. Emma's just been through so much. She'll come around. Give her some space."

David nodded, processing Killian's words. "Yeah, forcing Emma to talk about her feelings never worked for anyone." They both laughed at that, a dry brittle sound. "I'm glad she had you to come to, Killian."

Killian shook his head. How was he supposed to be of any help? Sure he could hold her as she cried and supply t-shirts and a gated property to calm down in, but Killian didn't know how to make her feel better. It wasn't that he could give her a drink. _Killian needed a drink._ Killian shook himself hard, pinching his leg. "I don't know how to fix this. I'm still a mess myself."

David reached through the gate, sensing Killian's distress and clapped his arm. "Killian, do what you've already been doing. Emma came to you for a reason."

"Even though I'm a recovery alcoholic with no coping skills?"

"Don't sell yourself short. As much as it pains me as the protective older brother, you're really not that bad." David cleared his throat, clearly embarrassed for admitting Killian wasn't a complete disaster. "You're what Emma needs." David stepped back from the gate. "Go be with her. Call me if you need me." With that David got into his SUV and backed away.

Killian turned from the gate and moved back up the driveway. David thought he could be useful. That Emma had come to him for a reason.

Someone wanted Killian for something other than fame.

Killian was good for something other than making a scene.

If David was right, then Killian was more than just a recovering alcoholic. Killian actually could contribute. Make the lives of those around him better. No matter how many struggles he still had, Killian could be more. Killian had the capability to make Emma feel better, some way, some how. Even if the only way to make her feel better was to protect her from the world for a little while until her the new emotional wounds started to heal. Killian would have a second gate erected if that would make her feel better, safer.

Killian let himself back into the house, stopping when he saw Emma sitting on one of the lower steps of the staircase. She wore his yellow t-shirt and flannel pyjama pants that were too long and hung over the edges of her toes. While Killian had been outside she must have found the ensuite and scrubbed all the tear smudged mascara from her face. Her hair had been thrown up into a loose bun, tendrils slipping down from it already. This was the woman he'd fallen for in that tiny apartment all those weeks ago. Even with the heartbreaking, tear-reddened eyes, she was beautiful.

Enough that it stole Killian's breath for a moment.

And steeled his resolve to make this better for her.

Killian could be capable of that.

Killian _would_ be capable of that.

"I assume David told you what happened?" Emma asked in a quiet voice, curling and flexing her toes anxiously, the movement only slightly concealed through the plaid flannel pants she wore.

Killian nodded, scratching at his ear. "But we don't have to talk about it right now, if you don't want to." Eventually they would have to. But for now they could just breathe for a few moments. Emma nodded, a tiny smile ticking up the side of her cheek in clear relief. "Instead we could get some supper brought in?"

Emma thought for a few moments as Killian closed the gap between them, settling next to her on the stairs. She leaned against him immediately. No, Emma was not alright, was far from it, if she was so upset that she was seeking contact rather than walling it all out, but at least she was with him. At least she was with someone who cared. And would do anything for her.

"I know you're supposed to be eating healthy and all to recover but could we have Chinese?" she asked in a small voice.

Killian laughed, bending to press a kiss to the top of her head. "Your heart's desire, Swan. That's all I want you to have. And if that's eight hundred fortune cookies, then that is what you shall have."

No, she wasn't okay. Hell, Killian wasn't even close to okay either. But they were together. And they would soon have a mountain of Chinese food. And Netflix. Which was a pretty good start to learning to be okay again.


	28. Old Yellow T-Shirt

_A/N:_ So sorry for the delay in getting a new chapter up. My schooling got so busy. I've got one week left of the semester so I can't promise I'll have time next week to write the next chapter but after that is Christmas break and I'm going to try to go and pump out some more so this delay doesn't happen again (at least for a while). Also, I've passed 100 000 words and 300 followers and WOAH! WHAT? This story has become such a monster. Thanks for being along for the ride! Also, thanks if any of you have nominated or voted for me in CSFA! I appreciate you all so much! (And if you didn't know, I was nominated for five awards for the Captain Swan Fanfiction Awards over on the tumblr of the same name, for both DWD and In the Key of G. I'd really appreciate it if you could vote for me- or really anyone, show our authors some love!). Finally, I posted a new one-shot last night if you haven't seen it, called Brothers, Lights and Christmas Nights in the same verse as Brothers, Pizza and Game Controllers, so check that out if you want some Jones Brothers holiday fun! Thanks for all the support and let me know what you think of this chapter! Enjoy!

Warning: This chapter contains mentions of alcohol abuse.

Disclaimer: All aspects of Once Upon A Time belong to ABC and the show's creators.

Emma waited on the stairs until Killian had ordered the Chinese, slowly wiggling her toes beneath the too-long fabric of her borrowed pyjama pants. The softness was comforting. She'd never had someone else's clothing to borrow. Well, she'd had old ratty stuff she'd gotten at the group homes or the stuff she stole. Always when leaving a place so she wasn't around to be caught. Disappeared into the system with a pair of too big jeans and a ratty grey beanie. But she'd never had someone willingly give her clothing to comfort her.

And comforted she was. The yellow shirt she wore was ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous. Ugly as sin and worn thin enough she could see through the armpit without looking through the arm hole. Emma couldn't believe Killian still had it. It was so old and ratty, especially compared to the rows of lovely clothes he had in that closet that was practically the size of her own bedroom. It had to be special. Memories that after everything were enough to drown him. Emma hadn't missed that there were no pictures on his walls. No friends of his old life left other than Eric and his manager who was contractually obliged to stick around. No reminders of his childhood. Yet there was still this t-shirt. And he let her wear it.

Her.

Fuck.

Even after everything it warmed her heart through the anxiety.

Broke through the self-hatred for a few moments so she could breathe.

Because she, _Emma Swan,_ was special enough to experience this memory.

"It's going to be about 45 minutes, lass. Why don't we go to the couches? They're far more comfortable," Killian suggested after hanging up the phone to the local Chinese restaurant. Killian held out a hand for her. The slight shake in it didn't escape Emma as she took it and allowed him to pull her up. Again, that little spark of warmth flared in her chest. Because even with all Killian's issues he was pushing them aside to help her.

A year ago Emma would have scoffed at the idea that she'd run to a man (who wasn't David) for comfort after such an emotional day. But at the moment Emma was so pleased she had. Because she deserved to be comforted for once in her life by someone she didn't feel guilt around like she did with David. With Killian it didn't feel like she was putting another check in the ledger of who was a better human, a race she'd never win. With Killian it just felt safe.

Something Emma never allowed herself to feel.

Because that made you lazy.

Take too much for granted.

Break twice as hard when it all came crashing down.

But she couldn't think of that at this moment. Not when she was wearing the old yellow t-shirt and holding a hand of a man trying everything to keep it together for her. Not when she was in a warm home that wanted her there with food on the way.

It was everything she'd wanted as a child.

She'd freak out about that tomorrow.

But for now, now she was content to lick her wounds with Killian's comfort beside her. She couldn't focus on anything beyond the self-hatred flaring through her and seek out those little pockets of safety that lit the darkness of her mind.

Killian led her into the living room, motioning to the big leather sectional couch for her to take a seat. Emma did, sinking back into the overstuffed cushions and burrowing into the corner. She pulled her knees up to her chest. There, surrounded from the world on all sides. Safe. Killian gave her a small up-tipping of his lips, a little sad, a little pleased, before sitting down beside her. They stayed apart for a few long moments.

Awkward.

So awkward.

Killian was still afraid of pushing her too hard.

And Emma was too afraid to let go anymore. Break the damn again.

But she wanted Killian. Closer. With her. Comforting her.

Another few heartbeats passed before Killian sighed and shifted, sliding across the leather towards her. A glance towards her, measuring the reaction of him entering her space a little more. When Emma didn't panic and attempt to get under the cushions he reached forward and grasped her feet, tugging a little. Emma allowed him to pull her feet forward so he could slide under her legs, his thigh pressed against her behind as her knees went over his legs.

Now Emma sighed. The heat. The warmth. It slowed the turning in her gut for a moment. Made her focus on Killian instead. How she wanted him closer. But any actions to get that at this point would just be another form of self-destruction. Another way to push away the bigger issues until it exploded. And an exploitation of Killian because Emma knew, no matter the dirty dreams she may have on occasion, Killian _wasn't_ ready for that yet.

And really neither was she.

Still too primed to run.

Still to scared of being a fuck and chuck again that she was always chucked first.

And she would _not_ do that to Killian.

 _Fuck._ When had things gotten so messy?

So Emma just sat against the corner of the sofa with Killian underneath her legs, the jean clad appendages twitching every once and a while with his shakes. It just matched the shaking inside.

Everything was on such shaky ground at the moment. No job. No more identity outside the dirty cop. Because that's what they'd find. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered now that Greg and the other officers had their own ideas about her past. And the one person who was at the precinct that was on her side was an hour away. The relationship she had with David was now strained. Emma knew David would be upset she ran to Killian and not him. But Emma was hurt too. For all his talk of always being there, he picked the shittiest day to fuck that promise up.

"So you were writing before I arrived?" Emma asked after another long moment, the silence weighing too heavily on her, giving her too much space to think.

Killian jumped a little at her voice, obviously expecting her to be silent until the food arrived. To lock herself away in her little walled castle of a prison. But Emma longed to get out of that because inside those walls was where all the crap was rolling around. She needed a distraction to get out.

"Aye," Killian answered, reaching for the notepad. "Eric was working today but we've been texting back and forth." _So I didn't spiral while doing it._ Emma pressed her legs down against Killian's in an attempt to be comforting, to let him know she understood. Any maybe to encourage him to keep talking. At Emma's movement Killian flipped the pad towards her. "Yeah, called _Phoenix Bridge._ It's for Eric, not that he knows that," Killian trailed off, scratching behind his ear.

Emma reached for the pad to read the lyrics scrawled across the yellow paper.

 _Burnt the damn bridge with my own stupidity._

 _Brother always was told not to play with matches._

 _Ashes, ashes._

 _And nothing but cinders in my lungs,_

 ** _How'd I get here?_**

 ** _Who gave me the lighter?_**

 ** _Why'd I light what we had on fire,_**

 ** _When you were the only one with the extinguisher?_**

 _Now I've been burning._

 _A man afire._

 _Burning all my bridges,_

 _Like how Midas makes gold,_

 _One touch._

 _I'm the lighter now._

 ** _How'd I get here?_**

 ** _Who gave me the lighter?_**

 ** _Why'd I light what we had on fire,_**

 ** _When you were the only one with the extinguisher?_**

 _Alone with ashes._

 _Can't cross to the other side because the bridge is gone._

 _Nothing to do but make shapes in the dust._

 _Can I build a man out of the leftovers?_

 _Give me some company in this damn lonely life I caused?_

 ** _How'd I get here?_**

 ** _Who gave me the lighter?_**

 ** _Why'd I light what we had on fire,_**

 ** _When you were the only one with the extinguisher?_**

 _I was trapped,_

 _Surrounded by water but couldn't put myself out._

 _No bridge to cross to get away from my own inferno._

 _A personal hell of my own making._

 ** _How'd I get here?_**

 ** _Who gave me the lighter?_**

 ** _Why'd I light what we had on fire,_**

 ** _When you were the only one with the extinguisher?_**

 _I picked up the ashes, running through my fingers._

 _Slipping through my fingers._

 _So I threw them into the water._

 _At least try to return them to where they belonged._

 _But no one told me you were a phoenix,_

 _Bursting forth as the ashes flew from my fist._

 _A phoenix bridge,_

 _Built before my very eyes._

 _Now I'm on the other side._

 _Because you put the ashes together again._

 _All I had to do was try._

"This is amazing, Killian," Emma whispered, trailing a finger down the lyrics. A rebuilt friendship. Most wouldn't understand what some of the lyrics really meant to Killian but Emma knew enough to at least understand the idea of them, if not the true magnitude. It made her chest ache but also want to hug Eric for what he'd done for Killian. And Emma was _not_ that kind of person. "Has Eric seen this yet?"

Killian looked up at her from where he'd been studying his jeans. "Not yet," he answered sheepishly, his cheeks a little pink in embarrassment. "I wanted to record it first so he saw the finished product. Eric thinks today we were doing another song. But those notes are still on my phone."

"This is going to be the best surprise; you know?" Emma replied, reaching over and grasping Killian's hand with one of her own while she set the pad on the coffee table with the other. That shake was still there. She was going to need to talk to Victor about that. "It's a good thank you."

"Thanks," Killian answered with a small smile before clearing his throat. "But aren't I supposed to be comforting you?"

"It helped me forget for a moment," Emma whispered, feeling that weight that had momentarily shifted while she concentrated on the lyrics and Killian's anxiety come back.

Emma fell into silence again. How had this damn mess happened? She'd been trying so hard to keep things hidden, to keep moving forward, to not look back. And damn _Greg._ She should have punched his weasel-y face on the way out. At least then he'd be suffering too because she had a mean left hook.

Emma just couldn't win for losing. Every time she pulled herself out that hole, the one she'd been thrown into in foster care something happened. First it was all the shit she went through in the system. Like that foster father who dropped charges of stealing. Emma had used her own suffering to leverage herself out but it had gone on her damn record and made her even less adoptable. Then it Neal trying to turn her in when she finally ran from the system, was trying to make it on her own. Then she'd gotten into the force. Just for a few years but she was _good_ at her job, excellent at finding people, and had become a detective. Until Neal's dead body sent everything flying again. One more year and she'd stabilized again, working with David, she had Killian, a future building beyond her own walls. Until today.

And it wasn't that Emma was completely innocent in everything. She'd made calls she probably shouldn't have. She'd _known_ she was doing something stupid with the way she was doing the investigation for Neal. She'd known that stealing before, after running from the system, wasn't a way to make a life. But _damn it_ she was trying. She was fighting constantly. Trying to build a better life for herself.

Why couldn't she just catch a break.

Have more than a few weeks of peace.

Emma wanted to be happy.

But it seemed in this life, it wasn't possible.

"Swan? Lass?" Killian asked quietly, reaching forward and running a thumb down her cheek. It was only when he pulled away that she realized she'd started crying again. Emma reached up quickly and palmed at her cheeks, whipping at the tears angrily.

"It's fine," Emma answered briskly.

"It's obviously not, but if you don't want to tell me what's going on in that beautiful head of yours, I'll not push." Killian pulled back and settled against the couch again. Emma could tell he was a little hurt she wasn't sharing after everything.

And maybe that was part of the problem.

Emma never let anyone in. Just bottled everything up.

For good reason really, after all the people she'd been exposed to. It had been survival, especially after actually letting Neal in and have that first fiasco go as it did. But if she'd let David into her issues when the Neal case hit her desk she probably would have avoided all the mess that case caused in her life. Hell, if Killian had let people into his life after Liam's death and Milah's betrayal he may have avoided years of alcoholism. Letting her and Eric into his life certainly seemed to be helping him.

Maybe humans weren't meant to be so solitary?

Maybe that had been part of the problem all along?

Maybe Emma's own misery was in part because she didn't share it.

 _Damnit,_ was she her own worst enemy?

 _Fuck._

"Why did this happen to me?" Emma blurted suddenly, shocking even herself. Obviously her self-conscious was just completely sick of being miserable and was ready to try anything.

Killian turned to her suddenly and gave her a sad little smile. "Honestly, love, I don't know why you got the short end of the stick in life. I've asked myself that question countless nights after my mother died and my father left Liam and I. And I've asked it a million more times since Liam's death and Milah's betrayal. And I don't have an answer. Not one."

Emma felt heat rise in her cheeks. Embarrassed at her self-centredness. Killian had gone through shit too. Why was she always so selfish? Messing everything up because she just wanted to survive and had room for nothing else.

"I'm sorry."

Killian quickly shook his head, sensing her train of thought. "I'm not saying that to shut you down, lass. I'm saying that because I've been searching my whole life for an answer. Maybe it was me deciding that there was no reason, that I was some sick universe joke that allowed me to turn to alcohol. Maybe it was me thinking nothing would ever truly be better. But Emma, darling lass, I don't want that for you. Me either. Not anymore at least. I want a future that's happy. And I don't think we'll get that if we keep beating ourselves up."

But Emma didn't know what to do.

She didn't know how to be any different.

And she just needed to get that out. Keep letting someone in, make use of this moment of openness her castle had allowed. Maybe finally get an answer.

"It just seems like every time something gets good, something else ruins it. I ruin enough of my life on my own. Why did Greg have to add to the shit?" Emma flopped back against the arm of the sofa, dejectedly.

She really should have punched Greg.

Killian coughed a little and Emma lifted her head from the arm, watching as he opened and closed his mouth a few times, clearly trying to decided if he should speak.

"What?" she asked, immediately suspicious. Emma was almost certain that Killian wouldn't answer with well, you are a piece of dirty cop shit. Right? Which meant whatever he was poised to reveal probably had to deal with David in the driveway.

"You know how David came by?" Emma nodded, blowing out a relieved breath. On an objective level she knew Killian wouldn't say something so awful to her. But on the other hand, well, she was still Emma Swan. "Well, David knows why Greg acted as he did. I don't know if I was supposed to tell you but I'm going to." Emma sat up a little straighter, confused. What sort of reason could Greg have had other than being the literal human embodiment of garbage can juice? "You were nominated for a promotion."

Emma cursed loudly. Killian didn't have to say anything more for her to understand what had happened.

 _Fucking_ Greg.

She shouldn't have just punched him. She should have castrated him with a single staple. How? Emma didn't know. But _oh,_ she would have enjoyed that.

A promotion. Finally. After everything. She'd been so close back in Homicide and then had fallen through all the ranks again. With the year of hard work and keeping her head down in patrol she'd topped her new precincts list. She was going up. She'd be a match with David. Not only was that a pay raise but it was vindication. Proof that she was a _damn_ good _, not_ dirty, cop. And because Greg found out it had all been ripped out from under her. Everyone thought she was dirty again and there was honestly no where else for her to go in this job to escape it again. Especially since there was no way she was going to get promoted now.

Emma continued to curse angrily, fingernails digging half-moons into her palms until they slit the skin. Killian just sat patiently, watching her. Maybe a little wary because damn, she was angry.

But then, as fast as the anger had hit her it fizzled out and the despair hit. Tears streaked down her face. Now, instead of wanting to turn Greg's tonsils into a hair bow she just wanted to be held. To feel like one person in the world actually wanted her to be happy. That she wasn't drifting anymore. She needed an anchor. Emma didn't know if she moved first or if Killian did, reaching and pulling her into his lap. She buried her face into his shoulder. Totally destroying another shirt with her tears. But at this point she couldn't find it in her to care. Killian had the money to take them to the dry cleaners anyway.

Which is something she might not have soon.

Because she couldn't go back to policing now.

Not unless she moved because even though Emma knew she was innocent, she knew they'd find her guilty. Or clear her then subsequently fire her because she'd caused so much dissent. Or _Greg_ had. But at this point it was her name on their lips.

Plus, Emma was too damn proud to show her face in the precinct again.

She had nothing to go back to now.

The job she'd done since eventually pulling herself out of foster care and the Neal debacle was lost.

What was she supposed to do next?

What could she do next?

She didn't have a college degree. Nothing except her Police Academy diploma and the few courses she'd taken so she could work as a detective-in-training under David as she worked her way over the four years to a full detective. Maybe she could be a bounty hunter. Or personal security. She still had her gun license after all.

The gate buzzer rang through the house, followed by a tentative "delivery!" ringing over the PA system. Emma jumped in surprise. It was hard to believe 45 minutes had passed already, but then again, she'd spent the majority of it crying and cursing which was totally out of her realm of normal- well, the crying, not the cursing. She felt bad for Killian, having to sit under her for so long. The poor man must be feeling pretty sore, especially with the lingering tremors in his muscles Emma could feel through her own now that the buzzer surprise had shocked her out of the violent sobs. The buzzer rang again.

Killian sighed. "I guess I have to go get that now." Emma nodded, sliding of his lap. Killian gave her hand a little squeeze before leaving the room. While he was gone, Emma rubbed her palms furiously against her cheeks to clean up the tears, unwilling to use the precious yellow t-shirt she was still wearing to mop up the salty water. Damn, she hated crying. She wasn't used to it, loathed doing it around other people and Killian had held her while she did just that, twice in as many hours.

"Are you okay?" Killian asked after he'd set the big bag of Chinese down on the coffee table.

Emma shook her head as Killian handed her some chop sticks. "I've got no job. I can't go back to the precinct now. Not that they'd even let me. I just, well, I don't know what to do now."

Killian was quiet for a few moments before dropping his white takeout container and chop sticks onto the table. They rocked violently and Emma had to lunge for them to stop them from falling over. "Come work for me."

"What?" Emma asked, sitting ramrod straight again. What had he just asked her to do?

"Come work for me," Killian repeated, much slower this time, a smile spreading over his face as he spoke.

Work for him? Like doing what? She couldn't just take a random job because she was his girlfriend. That wasn't right. What kind of jobs did Killian have anyways?

"Killian," Emma started, warning. She wouldn't be some kept woman who occasionally answered fan mail for an exorbitant salary because he felt bad.

Killian held his hand up. "No, Emma, wait. Just listen before you jump to conclusions." Emma could tell Killian was excited by the prospect of a job so she quieted. She owed him at least that before she shut him down after how kind he'd been. "I'm doing my first live TV show since the tour next week in Boston. But since it's been like over a year since tour and I spiraled, Regina let all our security go. I wasn't listening to them anyway back then." Security? "I need a body guard; you know? So we were just going to call a local security firm for the trip and then work on hiring later. But you're suddenly free and you can carry a gun. Why don't you come be my security guard, like in a test run, and if you like it, you can be that full time? And before you start calling it a favour, just, well, one, you're qualified. You can carry a gun, have been involved in policing for a while and you're scrappy and smart. Plus, you can spot a liar a mile away and that happens a lot with groupies trying to get to me. But really, two, the big one, is that you know about me. About what some regular guard never would. Like about my anxiety. And alcoholism. This is my first live show sober." A bit of anxiety started to seep through Killian's happy exterior. Of course he'd be nervous. A lot could go wrong when he was still on such fragile ground. Killian shook himself.

"So what do you say? I'll get Regina to draw up an official contract and everything. So you know, you really feel like this isn't a favour. Because it _isn't_. Having you there, it would just be better. Knowing you're supporting me and that you've been through it with me. Well, I couldn't ask for a better security guard than you."

Emma chewed on her lip, considering his proposition.

She did need a new job. Personal security wouldn't be _bad._ Plus, as Killian had said, this was just a trial run. It wasn't a commitment.

Maybe Emma needed a change. Maybe she needed to be somewhere where she was appreciated. Maybe she needed to get out there, see if there was something better than policing for her.

Plus, if she didn't stay on with Killian, the job would still be something else to add to her resume when she applied to other personal security or bounty hunting jobs.

And she'd get to travel to Boston with Killian and get paid to see him perform. That was a pretty great perk, right?

Emma nodded. "Okay, I'll do it. I'll be your security guard."

Killian whooped and lunged forward, kissing her hard. "Thanks, lass. I'll call Regina in the morning and we'll get you all set up." All Emma could do was laugh. Because for the first time that day, things were finally looking up.

Things were changing. Her whole life had tipped up on it's axis that day. But munching on comfort Chinese food with her knees tucked up into the too-big yellow t-shirt, Killian sitting beside her, scrolling through Netflix, the change didn't seem that scary. At least not at that moment and she would hold onto that contentment for when it did get scary. Because for once she really didn't want to squander her chance for something better.


	29. Not That Kind of Sex Talk

_A/N:_ Sorry it took so long to update. My semester finished today and the last two weeks were a race to the finish. But I'm off now so I'm going to try to bank up some chapters over break. Keep an eye out for Monday chapters and some random holiday one-shots and additions to Brothers, Lights and Christmas Nights as I finished them. So this chapter talks about sex (but no sex will be had) and how alcoholism affects sexual function. If that squicks you out, skip it, next chapter is Emma meeting Regina. I feel like I'm rusty but I hope you still think it's okay. Thanks for all the support and sticking with me. Let me know what you think. Enjoy!

Warning: This chapter contains mentions of alcohol abuse.

Disclaimer: All aspects of Once Upon A Time belong to ABC and the show's creators.

Killian couldn't believe he hadn't thought of Emma as his security guard sooner. She _knew_ him. Knew what to keep him away from. And he had no doubt that she could protect him. Honestly, that thought was kinda hot and had Killian wishing he was feeling better. That he could worship her as she deserved.

Killian shifted, pulling subtly at his recently uncomfortable jeans.

Emma moved against him, resettling against his shoulder, not noticing. Killian blew out a breath. It really didn't help that she was curled up beside him, hair brushing his chest, as she watched the television and munched on her Chinese food. It had been weeks since Emma and he had gotten together, and they'd known each other for nearly a month before that. Killian had _never_ waited that long to get a woman in bed before. Especially not one as beautiful as Emma.

And it was slowly starting to kill him.

Every day he got more and more under control of himself, the need got worse.

The desire to strip the jeans from Emma's long legs.

To lay her back on the duvet and lower himself onto her.

To do what he couldn't with all those one-night stands he had over the past few years.

To erase that pain and wallowing that involved and replace it with the light Emma had returned to his life.

Sex had been a distraction before. A chore to complete to clear his mind of the pain. But sex with Emma- that just felt like a different beast.

Like it was with Milah. But different. Less selfish. Less desperate.

Emma would be beautiful, strong and assertive. Maybe she'd let him take her over the grand piano. Lay down a fleece blanket and climb up onto the instrument-

Killian coughed and eased himself out from behind Emma. "I'm going to go get a water, can I get you something?" She shook her head, concentrating on the car chase on the television. Killian blew out a relieved breath that she didn't turn to him, wouldn't see his obvious discomfort or where it was coming from, as he hurried from the room.

Once in the kitchen, Killian pulled out a water bottle, and pressed it against his neck. His hand shook against the bottle, wiggling the plastic against his skin and sending droplets of condensation down into the neck of his t-shirt. Any discomfort he'd been feeling was rapidly deflated as he stood in the kitchen shaking.

Killian wasn't ready for this. Alcoholism had destroyed his body and that included the parts more endeared to him. It was why he chose, on the rough nights when he'd not been sober for a minute in days, to often get a woman off with his mouth or fingers enough times that she'd fall asleep and he could leave with his pride intact. Or that he'd chose hard and fast, no time for anything to go wrong. Didn't mean that things didn't go wrong though.

And he didn't want that to happen with Emma, especially not the first time. Killian knew Emma would understand, probably knew far more about alcoholism than he did with her research. And that made shame shoot through him. Was that part of the reason she hadn't made a move on him for more? Was it less of her understanding that he wasn't emotionally ready, or physically fit, enough, but rather she thought he couldn't satisfy her?

And it was all his fault. Or, rather the rum. But he'd drank it.

All of it.

And now he had a limp dick.

And with his new SSRIs, Whale had told him orgasms would be more difficult. Take longer.

So even if he could get it up, would he be able to even get off in time before his body shut down?

Probably not for a while. Not until he repaired himself.

 _Fuck._

Killian kicked the freezer section of the fridge in frustration, cursing when pain shot through his foot.

"Killian?" Emma called, sock feet rushing out of the living room and into the kitchen. "What's wrong?" she asked, approaching him slower once she'd seen that nothing major had happened. "What happened?"

Killian shook his head, tossing the still full bottle into the sink to retrieve later. "Nothing."

Emma gave him a glare. "I just spent all afternoon crying on you and you made it better. Let me help you now."

"It's embarrassing," Killian muttered, turning around. Killian felt like a caged animal. Like he needed to forget with rum. But couldn't. Not again. Not ever. Not when this whole issue was over the damage he'd caused to his body already.

"Killian," Emma whispered softly, her tone one of understanding as she grasped one of his shaking hands. Her hand was soft, warm against his water-bottle-cooled skin. "I won't make you talk about it then. Why don't we go do something else? I bet you've got a gaming system hidden somewhere in this monstrosity of a house. You want to show me how to play?"

Killian sighed. Emma was too good. She didn't even know the issue and yet she _knew_. Not to push. That this was in some way related to his alcoholism. This was why she'd be the best security guard he'd ever had. It was why he was the luckiest bastard on earth for being able to call her his.

"I'm not going to be able to please you right," he blurted, heat rising to his face immediately. Killian turned and stared out the window over his kitchen sink, too embarrassed to see her face when she realized what half a man he was.

"Excuse me?" she asked.

"Please you. Fuck you. Make love to you. Whatever the hell you call it." The embarrassment made his tone short but this was something Emma needed to know. She needed to know he couldn't make her happy. Maybe she'd let him keep her around as a security guard, but there was no way she'd want to be with someone who had regular issues with getting it up and hid it all behind bravado and shaky reasoning. But Killian could live with that. Would have to live with that. Because he needed Emma to stay in his life somehow.

Emma dodged around him so she could see his face, catching his chin in her hand when he tried to turn away. "Where did this come from?" she asked carefully, using her other arm to stroke his shoulder. The soft touches felt so wonderful, sparking the nerves under his skin and making him want to do everything he'd recently been fantasizing about. But couldn't. So he jerked back. Away from her touch. At that moment, it felt like one of the hardest thing he'd ever done. Emma ducked her head, clearly feeling as if she'd been admonished.

Killian cursed under his breath. Everything was getting so buggered up because of him. Steeling himself against the attraction coursing to his nether regions, he stepped forward and grasped Emma's hand again.

"You deserve the world Emma," he started slowly. "Monetarily, I can give you that. Any bauble your heart desires, I'll make yours. Emotionally, I'm healing but I'm going to be there for you. I'll hold you when you cry," she gripped at his fingers tighter for a moment, "I'll laugh with you and support you as you decide which direction your life is going to go now. But physically. Physically, I'm just a shell of a man. I'm sure you know what alcohol can do to the body. I can't give you a night in bed."

Emma shook her head. "You can sleep next to me, can't you?" Killian nodded when it became clear she was waiting for an answer. "You know there are more ways to please someone than just a dick?" Another nod. "You know your body will get better." This time, Killian just gave her a cringe, only nodding when she glared back, clearly unimpressed. "Because _I_ know we had that conversation. Have you forgotten that I've actually seen you pretty much naked before? I know alcohol wasted your body. But you know what? I still think you're damn attractive." She paused for a moment before rolling her eyes. "Forget I said that, your head doesn't need to get any bigger." Killian snorted, despite himself. "Look, Killian, things will only be worse if you worry. Me and you, it was never about sex. You wormed your way into my life by doing your own thing. Trust me, there was nothing sexy about watching you puke kale. But I'm still here. I'm not saying I'm never going to want sex. _I want sex._ But you know what? I'm not ready either."

"What?" Killian asked, voice barely above a breath.

"I'm the master of the fuck and chuck. Probably better than you, which according to the tabloids is saying something." Killian cringed but Emma just shrugged in return. "I don't want to run out on you. So I'm waiting too."

"But what happens when you're done waiting?"

"If mini Killian isn't into the game, you wash your hands and get to work." Now Killian didn't just snort, he actually laughed. Why was he not surprised that Emma could make him laugh when he felt so shitty about himself? Who would have thought that a woman who thought herself so worthless, so hardened and forgotten by the world, actually was the brightest spot in his life?

They stood looking at each other for a few minutes. Emma was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. She practically glowed, even with skin that was still patchy from crying, hair matted from clutching and burying herself into Killian and an old t-shirt of his covering her frame. But all that didn't matter.

Not one bit.

"Want to get back to the movie?" Emma asked after another moment. "I can sit on the other chair if that would make you feel better."

Killian shook his head and reached forward to grab her hand. No, now that his embarrassment was laid bare, Killian wanted to be no where more than to be back next to Emma. "I think I can struggle through next to you," he muttered, grinning when Emma rolled her eyes and yanked on his arm.

"You can tell me things you're feeling about your recovery, you know," Emma told him quietly when they'd settled again on the sofa, Emma adjusting herself against his chest.

"It's hard to talk about that kind of stuff."

Emma nodded after a moment. "Preaching to the choir."

"I do want to have sex with you," Killian replied, just needing her to know that.

"I know," Emma answered. "I want to have sex with you too."

Hearing Emma say that, hearing that she wanted him as he wanted her, made the desire swell inside. That image of her on the piano hit him again. Oh, how glorious she would look like that. Killian pressed his nails into his palm to chase away the heat flooding south.

"I wish we could."

"Someday soon. We don't have to start big."

"Well, trust me, there isn't anything small about me if that's what you're implying," Killian muttered. Emma rolled her eyes, ignoring the defense mechanism.

"Shut up and watch the movie, Mr. Hung-Like-A-Horse."

"I think I should make that my new Twitter handle."

"Oh please do. And let me be here when Regina realizes what you've done."

Killian shuddered. "Well, you might change your tune when you meet her tomorrow." Now it was Emma's turn to shudder against him. Killian immediately felt bad for unnecessarily worrying her after she'd been so kind to him. "But she likes you already, so I think it will be fine. Plus, you're going to take the security job which takes heat off her to find one. No need to worry." Emma nodded, seemingly relieved, and went back to watching the television.

Halfway through the second movie Killian grabbed his phone to let Regina know what was going on.

 _Emma's leaving her job. Internal reasons. Anyways, she agreed to come on as my security guard for the Boston trip. You have to admit, there would be no one better._

Regina's reply was rapid. Honestly, the woman never took a minute off. It was Killian's opinion that she needed to find someone to occupy her time. Which would be a great solution. Except, that personality of hers kept getting in the way.

 _Where did you find this wondrous woman?_

 _Also, that doesn't mean you can fuck backstage._

Killian rolled his eyes at the second text. Regina had walked in on Milah one too many times before she was banned from backstage. Regina never particularly liked the woman. Part of Killian wondered if he should have seen that as a warning for Milah's betrayal, but on the other hand, Regina hated nearly everyone. Killian pushed the thoughts of his ex away. Milah was gone. And never coming back. Killian just hoped that the mattress she'd stolen had a spring break and jab her or her new man.

 _Don't worry. This is her job. Not a vacation._

 _Good._

 _Can you come over tomorrow morning so we can get the contract signed?_

 _Already printing it. Be awake by 9. Time is of the essence. The plans are due to the tv station in two days._

 _Sure thing, boss._

Killian sighed. Getting back into touring wasn't something he was particularly looking forward to. Well, he was. Killian loved his music. Loved listening to auditoriums sing along with him, know everything they could about the songs and cherish them as much as he once had. At the end, that passion had been lacking from Killian. But now, now it may have been returning. So Killian was looking forward to getting back on stage and _living_ again. But getting back to touring meant having to be _Killian Jones_ again. That messy, dirty, sexy rock star. Immersed in the life of vice, sex, booze and women. Trying to balance the public persona with his new life, and his devotion to Emma, seemed almost impossible.

Killian knew he would need to come clean to the media and his fans about his alcoholism, about what had happened to him and how his life had changed eventually. But there was the fear that too much attention would turn to Emma and it would scare her and send her running. Killian wanted to be able to take her down the red carpet on his arm in a smashing dress. But he knew, right now, Emma couldn't handle that. So he'd have to settle for her being his security guard, untouchable but there, until she was ready to assume a spot next to him.

Killian could wait. Killian knew he would wait forever for her, go to the end of the world, or time, for her. Even if it was early in their relationship, Emma was more to him than just a girlfriend. She was his friend, his confidante, his nurse, his saviour. Too much to lose. Killian would do everything in his power to keep her with him, at least in some way. Preferably all the ways. But life was still too much of a mess for that.

It would have to be a discussion for another day. Once Emma had a taste of his life through her security guard position. All Killian could hope for was that, that experience wouldn't make her run.

Once the second movie had finished it was nearing midnight. Emma's head had fallen further down his chest, pillowed against him as her eyes drooped. Killian himself had drifted off for a few moments during the movie, woken when Emma shifted against him as she pulled the throw blanket over her legs.

"Emma, lass," Killian whispered as the credits rolled. "Movie's done," he added, shaking her shoulder gently. Emma stirred, rolling a bit so her head fell into his lap. It was everything Killian could do not to groan at the new pressure there. "Emma?" he tried again, voice strained.

Emma opened one eye, then the next, shooting him a sleepy look. It nearly melted his heart. Seeing his tough lass so vulnerable and comfortable made him want to wake her up a million more times and then a million more because it would never be enough. Killian shook himself. Obviously he needed to do some song writing if he was getting that sappy so frequently.

"Come on, lass," Killian said, louder this time, "Up you get. I'd carry you, but I'm afraid I can't." At the shameful twist of his features Emma pulled herself up and gave a sharp shake of the head.

"I can walk myself up, don't you worry." Emma bent forward and gave him a kiss, lips just a bit wet from where she'd been drooling on his abs. If they hadn't had such an emotional day Killian would have made a comment about people regularly drooling _over_ his abs, but this being a first. But after Emma's devastating day and Killian's insecurities being bared for her, he felt like they'd maybe passed a little hurdle. That maybe they'd gotten a bit closer. And he really didn't want to ruin that with the cheap one-liners Emma hated.

Emma stood and offered her hand to pull him up. Once upright, stretching out his stiff back, Killian scratched behind his ear. If he thought earlier was awkward, now he felt like some teenager with a girl spending the night who he was _not_ to make a move on. "Uh, there's a few bedrooms upstairs. You can take mine if you want. I'll take one of the other beds in case they're a bit dusty."

Emma gave him a strange look that Killian didn't quite understand. "Why would I sleep alone in your bed?"

"Well, uh, have you forgotten our earlier conversation?" Killian could feel himself blushing. Emma's gaze turned from confused to entertained and Killian turned and left the room to escape the embarrassment.

"You can sleep without your dick waggling everywhere, right?" Emma asked with a laugh, running to catch up with him as he climbed the stairs.

"What?" Killian asked, turning to her once he reached the next floor.

"We can _sleep_ together. We don't have to have sex just because we share a bed."

Killian chewed his lip. Oh, how he wanted to wake up with his arms wrapped around Emma. But he hadn't _just_ slept with a woman since Milah. Everything else was sex with awkward mornings after or running out in the middle of the night. Killian wasn't sure he ever remembered how to just _be_ with a woman like that. Especially when his dreams and body was still unpredictable.

Emma seemed to catch on without him saying anything. "I can sleep in another room if it makes you feel better, Killian. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pressure you."

Killian glanced towards the master suite. It was time to be brave. That was still something he could be, right? Especially when the reward was getting to spend the night next to the one and only, Emma Swan. "It's okay. We're both adults."

Emma nodded, clearly pleased but trying to hide it by chewing her bottom lip. "We are."

"We can sleep in close proximity without my dick playing Knock-Knock Ginger with your bits."

Emma rolled her eyes at that one. "I would hope so."

Killian nodded. "And I'm pretty sure I don't snore, so that's a win."

"If you do I'm recording it," Emma laughed, allowing Killian to pull her into the bedroom.

"I'm sure Eric would love a copy." Killian dropped her hand and motioned to the bed. "Are you okay to sleep in those sweats?" Emma nodded. "Okay, good. My closet's yours though tomorrow if you'd like to change or anything. Get settled, I'm just going to go change out of these jeans." While Killian ducked into the closet to change he heard Emma pad into the bathroom. Killian pulled on a pair of flannel sleep pants and a white tank, not comfortable in going shirtless yet, even though Emma had seen him practically naked before. And that was prior to all his new exercise. But still, Killian wasn't ready.

By the time Killian had finished getting dressed, Emma was done in the bathroom and in the bed, looking content and sleepy under the big duvet. Killian slipped into the bathroom to brush his teeth before moving to the open side of the bed.

"It's okay I'm on this side of the bed, right?" Emma asked before Killian got in.

Killian didn't respond right away, stunned to silence by the fact that he was discussion bed _sides_ with a woman. Not positions. Or if the condoms were kept in the right or left bedside table. _Actual sides._ Where they would just sleep. Any maybe become permanent ones.

After Emma cleared her throat and made to move Killian shook his head. "No, it's great. I normally just flop in the middle so I don't have a side."

"Okay," Emma answered, a little amused by his behaviour, but still seeming just as aware of what a step this was.

Killian pulled back the duvet and slid inside. They laid apart for a moment, the space between them feeling like a chasm. But that damn anxiety was back and Killian wasn't sure how not to be a total wanker. Emma laughed lightly and grasped his hand, pulling him over to his side and closer, as she shimmied back against him.

Killian groaned at the feel of her flush against him. Emma fit so well, her back against his chest, legs not tangled with his but still touching, grounding but not overwhelming. After a moment of reveling at being this type of intimate with a woman again he found his stride and pulled her closer. Emma would never be close enough for him, but _damn_ if it wasn't a lovely feeling having her as she was next to him.

"Night, lass," he whispered, leaning up and pressing a kiss to the shell of her ear. Emma only murmured sleepily back, burrowing back against his chest.

Killian held her tightly, the heat of her body lulling the sore and shaky muscles of his body into a relaxed state. So relaxed, that even he couldn't fight sleep for very long.


	30. Partners

_A/N:_ I apologize for the long wait. I got carried away writing one-shots and my family's been all over the place this holiday season due to unexpected things happening. I am going to try and get the next chapter written before I go back to school next week, but we'll see. I'm so sorry and I hope I'm not disappointing or annoying you. Next chapter is Boston. Thank you so much for all the support! Let me know what you think! Enjoy!

Warning: This chapter contains mentions of alcohol abuse.

Disclaimer: All aspects of Once Upon A Time belong to ABC and the show's creators.

Emma slid out from the bed, re-tucking Killian's arm under the blanket from where it had been wrapped around her waist. She hadn't slept so well in years, as cliché as it felt to her, yet she had. Probably because she felt safe. That made her nearly cringe. Emma wasn't used to someone else making her feel safe. She'd only ever been her own ally. Hell, she'd spent far too many nights after the first Neal debacle sleeping in the backseat of her Bug and made it through that. It was almost too much to think that she had felt so safe with someone else. Both because she needed no one. And also, secretly, upset that she'd gone so long without letting anyone in when she could have been slowly shedding the exhaustion she had worn as a coat for years.

Honestly, despite the mild panic bubbling under the surface, Emma wasn't exactly pleased at the prospect of being out of bed, feet shifting on the cold hardwood floor, but that Chinese the night before had made her parched. She needed a drink. Emma glanced back at Killian, studying his slow breathing to make sure he was still asleep before tip toing from the room. The last thing she wanted after Killian being so nervous about sleeping with her was to wake up to an empty bed. But Killian was still exhausted and healing. She really didn't want to wake him up yet. Also, with Regina slated to arrive sometime that day with the contracts for Emma, Killian having promised to contact her and from what Killian had told Emma about his manager, Killian could use all the sleep he could get.

Emma crept down the stairs, moving quietly until she was far enough away from the bedroom that her steps wouldn't wake Killian. Once she was walking at her normal pace it only took moments to be standing in front of the open fridge in the kitchen. It was a little strange, moving around someone else's house as if she belonged there. Rooting through a fridge that looked like a transformer to find something that wasn't liquefied kale, even though it warmed her to see Killian still used the substance even weeks after Emma had first showed up at it. Wearing his old sweats as if they were hers. Like she belonged somewhere other than her tiny shoebox of an apartment.

Even in the Nolan's house, Emma had always waited to ask permission to take food or occupy the television, _especially_ after the debacle with the Neal case where she _knew_ they were terribly disappointed in her failures. Emma hadn't ever belonged anywhere. Not in the foster homes that cycled her around because she got herself labelled as a trouble maker, a runner, an aggressive teen and everyone was too scared to take on the challenge for more than a few months. Not in the patrol unit she'd been placed in that judged her before they even knew half the story. Not even in her own skin.

But in Killian's house, she felt free to do as she pleased. Digging through the fridge was a far cry from the home when she was six that chained the fridge doors closed and only fed her when she _deserved_ it.

How Killian had crept up on her, given her this after their _very_ rocky start, blew her mind.

Shook her to her very core too.

But she wasn't concentrating on that at the moment. Couldn't. Instead she focused on extricating a water bottle from under a pile of coffee creamers.

Emma was pulled from her thoughts by the sound of the front door opening. She immediately stiffened, preparing herself to go out into the hall and beat the living shit out of some paparazzi who'd jumped the fence.

"I swear to all that is holy, that if you're upstairs sleeping, or _worse,_ fucking, I'll dump ice water on you!" a woman's voice called. Now Emma froze for another reason. There was only one woman who would have broken in to Killian's house and then yelled like that. _Regina._ Who Emma _definitely hadn't expected to come so early._

And Emma was stuck, standing like a deer in the headlights, in the open door of the fridge while looking like absolute shit.

 _Fuck._

And just her luck, Killian's Optimus Prime fridge started beeping, angry it had been left open for as long as it had.

 _Fucking fuck._

Regina sighed, muttering something about Killian not knowing what a door was, before her heels clicked towards the kitchen. Emma scrambled to shut the fridge door, scanning the kitchen and praying to the hair gods that there was an elastic, or comb _or a damn razor_ , on the counters so she could tame her hair that was still tear-matted and gross from the day before.

"Oh." There was a throat clearing and Emma looked towards the door, heat rising in her face. "I take it you're Emma," Regina drawled, eyes raking up Emma's frame while Emma shifted on bare feet, trying to straighten the yellow t-shirt she wore.

"Uh, yeah." Emma cleared her throat, finally looking at the manager. Regina stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame with her arms crossed, one of her sky high patent black leather pumps crossed over the other. She wore a tailored suit, a black pencil skirt with a more decorative blazer, big gold buttons running double breasted down her front a la military style. The cami under the blazer did little to hide her breasts, the dip between them accentuated by a long necklace with a red stone hanging from the chain. Her short black hair was blown out and flicked up at the end while an eyebrow climbed carefully up her forehead. Emma was being appraised and she had no idea if she was passing whatever test she was currently in. "I, uh, sorry. Killian didn't tell me you were coming so early or I would have changed."

At her words, Regina's lips finally twitched up into a half smile. "I've seen Killian in worse."

"Okay."

Emma really had no idea what to do. This was Killian's manager, the woman the industry called the Evil Queen of Record Deals, and her future boss. Killian's manager, who knew more about Emma than she was comfortable with. Especially since Emma didn't know what Regina _actually_ knew.

Footsteps stumbled and thumped down the stairs. "Emma?" Killian called out, sounding a bit frantic. Emma's heart plummeted, not wanting Killian to have woken up alone after the night before. Of course he thought she would run. She'd pretty much said she'd run at this point if they had sex. Co-sleeping wasn't _that_ different that it was unreasonable for Killian to think she'd pull a four-minute mile getting out of his mansion.

Before Emma could answer, Regina opened her mouth. "In here, Mr. Jones. Your girlfriend and I have just acquainted ourselves."

"What?" Killian practically shouted in panic, skidding into the kitchen, eyes just _slightly_ panicked. Emma tried to send him a reassuring smile and mouthed _sorry_ at him but Killian was still obviously off kilter. Regina appraised her client, lips twisting a bit in concern before she straightened.

"Killian, why don't you go order some breakfast for us and clean yourself up. Take a minute. Okay?"

Killian glanced towards Regina, pulling in a deep breath. Obviously, this wasn't the first time she'd seen his anxiety flaring or had to get him settled and cleaned up first thing in the morning. And it seemed that Killian trusted her enough to do just as she asked, backing out of the room with a nod. But why wouldn't he? Regina had been the only person in the world Killian had for years. Except now he had Emma and she hadn't done anything to soothe him. Had actually caused the upset.

"Would you excuse me for a moment?" Emma asked, not really focused on Regina, but instead on the spot Killian had just vacated. Regina nodded, sending a put out sigh her way that was clearly meant to cover any actual feelings the Evil Queen was having. With a weak smile, Emma hurried after Killian, catching him at the top of the stairs with a hand around his wrist.

"Killian," she huffed, a bit out of breath from sprinting the stairs. "I didn't mean to worry you. I was thirsty so I snuck down for a bottle of water and Regina arrived before I could get back to you. The last thing I wanted was to upset you."

Killian pulled in a deep breath then gave her a tiny smile, shifting his hand so his fingers entwined with hers. "I overreacted," Killian answered sheepishly. "I didn't even stop to consider that you were somewhere in the house."

"I won't run, Killian. Well, maybe I can't promise that," Emma added with a self-depreciating grin and a shake of her head. "But I promise you won't wake up alone, again. I'll always wake you up before I go get water or shower or go for coffee. At least until we're a bit more settled, okay?"

"Okay," Killian answered, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to her lips, just a sweet, little thing.

"And now I have to go pretend I don't look like a slob in front of your manager," Emma replied, pulling away and trying not to shudder.

Killian waved dismissively at her. "The woman walked in on me face down, naked, in the tub more than once. You look beautiful, especially in comparison to the kind of scene she's used to. I'll be back soon." Killian said it so nonchalantly. As if he wasn't talking about being face down ass up in his own alcoholism. It did very little to comfort her. All it did was remind her how many times she could have lost him before they even met.

Emma grabbed his hand again, pulling him closer, steadying him with her other hand as he stumbled a bit in surprise. "Please be safe." The statement seemed ridiculous. The man was just going to shower but Emma just needed to say it. Needed to vocalize, at least in some way, how much she needed him to stay safe. Killian gave her a funny little look before nodding.

"Of course, Swan. I promise." With that, Killian pulled away and moved towards his bedroom and ensuite bathroom to shower. Emma stood on the landing for a few more moments, watching him retreat.

With a sigh Emma padded down the stairs and back into the kitchen, wishing she at least had a pair of jeans to pull on. Maybe she'd have clothing at Killian's house someday. Maybe she wouldn't be stuck in the sweats because she had jeans and tank tops shoved in his bottom drawer someday. Maybe someday she'd have a toothbrush that was hers and shower gel in the shower waiting for her after work.

Maybe someday.

But definitely not a while.

Which was a bit of a sin because she was pretty sure there was a hole in the crotch of her, or technically Killian's, pants and she was about to have breakfast with her celebrity boyfriend's manager.

When Emma got back to the kitchen, Regina was readying a second cup of coffee from the fancy Keurig machine on the counter. The woman turned as Emma entered, motioning with the cup in her hand to the island sprouting from the main counter and lined with bar chairs. Emma sat at the seat with the mug of black coffee steaming in front of it and moved to doctor it up with far too much sugar.

"So, Emma," Regina drawled, leaning against the island across from Emma. Emma raised her brows in question as she lifted the mug to her lips and blew on the surface. "You and Killian have been through quite a lot."

Emma shrugged in response, not sure what to say. Emma really wasn't the kind of person to spill her soul to a stranger, even if the stranger wasn't _really_ a stranger. And what was she supposed to say anyways? _Yeah, I pulled his ass off his boat and nursed him back to health even though I was pretty sure he was going to die at least once and now we're dating?_ That really wasn't a proper summary for their relationship.

Regina smirked a bit at Emma's vague response. "Thank you for keeping Killian's name out of the papers regarding his arrest."

Again, Emma shrugged, but this time because Regina had actually sounded genuine. "Killian needed a hand. I did what was right."

"Did you like him right away?"

Emma snorted. "I threatened to shoot him multiple times."

"Been there," Regina answered, raising her own coffee cup in a cheers. Emma tilted her cup slightly, feeling a bit awkward in front of the manager. As if she were going to say the wrong thing and lose her new job. Or reveal something she shouldn't. If only Killian were there to help guide her.

When Regina realized Emma wasn't going to say any more there was a shift, as if the woman was getting down to business. Emma swallowed against the anxiety.

"So, for professional reasons, I need to know- why are you taking this job?"

"What did Killian tell you?" Emma answered evasively.

Regina smirked again, seemingly pleased by Emma's prickliness. "That there was a problem with your job. End of story." Regina took a sip of her coffee. "As Killian's manager, I need to be aware of everything. Including my employees who come into contact with him, as I'm assuming for now you'd like to keep your relationship secret?"

Emma nodded. Neither of them were ready. They hadn't even had sex yet. She and Killian would cross that bridge eventually, when there was less chance of her running or him self-destructing. When they were stable and whole (or less broken) and ready for all the judgement that the public would reign down on them for being together. It wasn't that she was ashamed to be with Killian, or that she didn't want anyone to know. People knew about them and she was actually falling for Killian and found herself more content than ever. It was just that she knew Killian's image was on shaky ground and there was still that niggling worry that Emma would ruin it completely when her past came out. Once they were stronger, emotionally, physically, romantically, then the gossip rags might not mean so much.

"So, regarding your last job?"

Emma sighed and put down her cup. Regina needed to know for Killian's sake. Killian was the only reason Emma was going to share this story. _Killian._ "I used to be a detective in Queen's homicide department. Once of the cases I was assigned a year ago was for an ex." Emma swallowed thickly. Regina was watching her carefully. "I, uh, had a rough childhood and my teenage-self's ex did some bad things. Tried to set me up for the fall for his crime but I alerted the police first. My ex, Neal, ratted on some people to get a lighter sentence and parole and the day he was released from jail a few years later, the drug people he ratted on murdered him. I was assigned the case and I didn't say anything about our past. I made some big mistakes, even though I caught the killer, and my past relationship came out. A rumor started that I was a dirty cop. That I was sleeping with Neal. No one knew that it was me that sent him to jail so rumours flew. I was given a choice- go to the patrol unit or stay and be investigated and I knew how that would end. So I left for my partner. And then yesterday," Emma swallowed against the bile in her throat, "the patrol unit learned about what happened in homicide and pulled my social services file from when I was a kid. All because I was going to get a promotion. They're going to do an internal investigation for sure this time. I was suspended while it happens. I know they'll find me innocent and then fire me anyways for disrupting the ranks," Emma said the last part in a deep voice, mocking her precinct captain. "So I'll stay until the investigation closes and then quit on them."

Regina was quiet for a moment. Sweat broke out on Emma's forehead and she ran her tongue across her lips. After a very long pause, the woman spoke. "I know what rumors will do. I wasn't who came up with the Evil Queen name. And I've spent years protecting Killian from them. I can keep those ones away from Killian now that I know."

Emma nodded, blowing out a relieved breath. Killian could stay safe from the mess. And Emma didn't detect a lie in Regina's words. The woman seemed to know what revealed secrets and rumours could do to a person. That brought some comfort to Emma, knowing she hadn't shared her story to a brick wall. Especially when it still felt so tender.

"So, you were good at your job?"

Emma nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

"Licensed to carry a gun?" Emma nodded again. She'd have to buy a new pistol, one that wasn't property of the police precinct, but she still had her license.

"Comfortable working security?"

"I'd like to move into it full time once I quit, yes," Emma answered. "That or bail bonds. Taking this assignment allows me to test the waters, as it were, and will help keep Killian feeling safer and more secure."

Regina nodded. "I believe that." She took a sip of her coffee. "I don't usually like hiring someone with a conflict of interest." Emma's heart plummeted and she stared into the steaming mug of coffee in her hands. "The last time I did it was with Killian's ex, and she was terrible at her job as merchandise manager. But," Emma glanced up "that was a different Killian then. Keeping Killian safe now will be a harder job because it's not just out of control groupies you need to be mindful of. It's also himself. And I think, that with your past work at protecting him from the media about the arrest, and keeping him safe during his detox, that I would be making a huge mistake not hiring you."

Emma couldn't help herself, she gave Regina a little grin. "Thank you, Ms. Mills. I promise I'll take this seriously. It's my job first and foremost. I won't lose another career because of stupid reasons."

Regina returned the smile, albeit, somewhat reluctantly despite the obvious pleasure at Emma's words that she couldn't quite contain. "Excellent. After breakfast we'll discuss pay, timeline and sign the contract."

Right on time the PA system rung, a voice coming across it stating breakfast had arrived. Feet hurried down the stairs and to the front door as Killian moved to grab whatever takeout he'd ordered. Emma and Regina waited in silence as Killian let the delivery man up and retrieved the food.

When Killian made it into the kitchen, damp hair dripping onto a white Henley and leaving transparent spots, he looked far more at ease than he had previously. Killian set the brown paper bags on the counter before moving to the fridge and pulling out one of his juices. Regina raised a brow at that before shaking her head in disbelief, a tiny smile pulling at the corner of her lips. How many times had she watched Killian pull out a beer first thing in the morning? How many times had she been the one forced to order breakfast because he needed sobering up before work? It gave Emma a new respect for the woman, explained why she was so sharp with Killian. The angry banter and persona had to have been a mechanism for survival. Just like Killian's rock star persona had been.

"Turnip before coffee?" Regina asked with a raised brow and a gesture at the yellow juice in Killian's hand.

"Actually, milady, it's pineapple ginger. Better for you that coffee."

Regina rolled her eyes. "You say that, but you don't have to deal with yourself first thing in the morning."

"No, I have to deal with you. Maybe I should get a taser instead of a fruit juice?"

"Open the breakfast, Jones, before I order Emma to taser _you_."

With a laugh, Killian obliged, moving to the two brown bags on the counter releasing a delicious smell that had Emma's mouth watering. Killian produced three different Styrofoam containers, peaking in them quickly before distributing them to their rightful owners. Regina got a traditional breakfast of scrambled eggs and bacon and Emma, pancakes with chocolate chips as preferred. Killian though, instead of the traditional diner food Emma and Regina got, produced an egg white omelette with salsa on top.

Regina raised a brow at Killian's breakfast. "I didn't know you knew what an egg white was."

Killian rolled his eyes and shovelled a large piece of omelette into his mouth. "You're very supportive, Queenie."

Regina sombre at that, pursing her lips as if she were offended Killian would suggest she wasn't. Emma just sat at the counter, quietly eating, not really understanding their relationship and a bit too scared of Regina to try and jump in. "Killian-"

"I know," Killian answered, a soft tone to match Regina's. "You show you care differently." Killian leaned forward on the counter. "That is, when a man is lucky enough to be cared for by Regina Mills." There was something about the way Regina stiffened, almost inperceptively, at Killian's words that made Emma think she was hiding something from her client. Killian didn't seem to notice, busy with his breakfast, but it made Emma wonder if perpetually, an infamously single Regina Mills had found someone. Someone Killian wasn't supposed to know about. Emma would have to keep her eyes open about that while in Boston.

The morning progressed fairly simply after that. Killian and Regina bantered and Emma signed the contract for her job in Boston. The pay was good. _Really good._ Which was to be expected, Emma supposed, considering who she was guarding, but it was enough to ensure her rent was paid for a few months without her having to dip into her savings that would be all she had once she quit the force. It wasn't until Emma saw the number and did the calculations that she realized how relieved she was, how much of the worry she had was related to running out of money and being that poor girl she had been after leaving the foster care system. Emma had promised herself she'd never return to that, but subconsciously it seemed that she had begun to expect it.

When Regina left, a snarky comment about finding a green juice that was good for writing lyrics following her out the front door, Kilian turned to Emma who was still going over her copy of the contracts at the counter.

"Alright, lass?" Killian asked, nearing her.

She nodded. "A little overwhelmed. Your ass costs a lot to guard," she answered with a whistle.

"Ah," Killian nodded, sagely, making Emma roll her eyes. "But it is a fine ass."

Fair point.

Emma really couldn't argue that she had a hot boyfriend.

Even if technically she'd only ever seen the _outline_ of his ass in boxers. Someday she'd see it properly.

Emma swallowed down the surge of attraction that thought brought and shook her head.

"You don't feel weird about it though, right?"

Did she feel weird about being paid when she was dating Killian? "A bit, but mainly about how much I'm getting. I mean, I'm really glad I'm the one who's guarding you and not some temp, so it's fine."

"I'm glad you're guarding me too, Swan," Killian answered, leaning over and kissing her cheek. "No one I'd feel safer with."

Those words, the realization that someone trusted her to do her job, _properly,_ filled her with a strange warmth. She'd gone so long with everyone thinking she was a dirty cop, some sketchy person with a strange backstory. But here was Killian, wanting her to be the one to care for him. This was how she should have felt in the force. This was the satisfaction and comfort she should have had while a cop.

She used to have it. So did David.

David. The man who felt terrible for not being able to protect her. The man who was her partner. Best friend. The brother she never had.

"So what are your plans today?"

Emma glanced down at the clothes she was wearing. As much as she didn't want to, she needed to clean herself up, freshen up for her fresh start. And, most importantly, do something about the one person she'd been desperately trying not to think about as she signed the new contract.

The one person who she needed to absolve of guilt.

"I need to go home, get changed then go see David," Emma answered, squeezing Killian's hand when his face fell. Honestly, she didn't want to leave either. She'd much rather go shower in Killian's ensuite in what was likely to be a magazine worthy shower and pull on more of his pyjamas, but she couldn't do that. "It's just, I'm leaving the force and David doesn't know. That isn't fair to him."

"David just wants to see you happy," Killian replied.

"I know," Emma said on a sigh, moving towards where her shoes were stashed at the front door. "But David gave everything up for me. I need to talk to him. Make sure he's happy."

Making David happy needed to happen. David gave up his dream job for her. To stay with her. It did make her feel guilty, she'd just pushed that to the back of her mind because yesterday she'd been _angry_ and _hurt._ In true Emma nature, nothing else mattered but getting away from the precinct and anything associated with it, including David.

Emma rolled over everything in her mind as she travelled back to her apartment. She'd promised Killian to return the clothes when he came over the next day after the studio and still having the sweats on her brought a level of comfort to what she was about to do. Cut the ties to the one person who'd been there for her through everything. Her first partner. First real best friend. First person to pull her from the darkness and give her a city that was a _home_ not a stopping place. David had been there. She owed him.

With a sigh Emma trudged up the stairs to her apartment. A quick shower and a change and then she'd be back in her car for the drive to the Nolan's. She wasn't looking forward to the conversation. Not at all. Emma let herself into the apartment and still when she realized the boots sitting by the door weren't hers.

"Hi."

Emma glanced up to see David, looking a complete wreck, just as she did, sitting on the couch. Had he been there since yesterday? Emma's heart broke, guilt surrounding her for running. "Hi."

"I hope you don't mind that I'm here."

Emma shook her head. "Of course not."

"I tried calling."

"My phone got left in the car and the night cold killed the battery."

"Oh."

Awkward. This conversation, David on the sofa, Emma at the door, spilling stilted words was awkward. Not what it should have been.

Not even close.

Emma sighed and crossed the floor to the sofa, seating herself beside David. David turned towards her, bloodshot eyes raking over the awful hair and strange yellow shirt Emma was currently sporting. She twisted her mouth up into a wry smile, trying to show how she was feeling.

"I'm sorry," David blurted. "If I'd only been there sooner. But Leo was sick. I had no idea Greg would do something like this."

Emma reached out a hand to stop the rant. "It isn't your fault," she answered. Talking, or thinking, about what had happened at the precinct made her sick but she couldn't not. She couldn't run. Ugh. Was the advice she'd been giving Killian for weeks finally starting to rub off on her?

"But I should have been there."

"It wouldn't have helped. Greg was determined. You would have gotten in trouble too."

"But you wouldn't have been alone in the investigation."

Emma squeezed David's forearm with a sigh. "And what good would that have done, David? You getting tangled up with me? Going without a paycheck? Getting fired when we both know you _need_ the paycheck to keep everything stable. I don't want you in this with me, David." David looked almost offended that she would say something like that. Emma shook her head, trying to keep her exasperation and anger at her situation at bay. "David, you've given me everything. A family. Friends. Stability. A partner. I couldn't have asked for more, especially after everything life threw at me. If you ended up getting suspended I'd never be able to forgive myself." Emma cleared her throat, bracing herself to tell David what she was planning to do. "Especially since I'm leaving the force."

"You're what?" David asked on a breath, eyes widening. Emma glanced down at her lap.

"I can't work there anymore. You know, David, _you know_ that they'll find me innocent, clear me, then find a way to fire me for causing tension in the ranks. And there's no where left to transfer. So I'm quitting. Leaving on my own terms. I don't want to leave _you_ David, but honestly, I need to leave the force. I can't be in a situation where everyday I'm reminded that I'm not good enough. That I'm dirty, nothing more than Neal's whore. You can't protect me from that, but you know what? Finally, after all these years, I can protect _you._ I can leave. Free you up. You were going to be captain David, before I messed everything up with the Neal investigation. You were going to head the homicide department someday. But with me by your side you can't. Not anymore. Especially not in patrol," Emma spit the word, Greg's actions still causing bile to rise in her throat.

"But you're my partner," David answered, a soft sort of acceptance tinged with a great deal of sadness in his voice.

"There are lots of other good cops out there. I'm still going to be your friend. I'll still be Auntie Em to Leo. I'm just not going to be at work. You do understand why I'm doing this, right?"

David was quiet for a long moment, long enough for Emma to start to worry that he didn't, before he nodded. "I do." David pulled in another deep breath. "But what are you going to do now?"

Emma grinned, despite herself, feeling excitement start to bubble up through the guilt. "I'm going to go into private security. At least for now. I signed a contract with Killian's manager this morning to do a trial run on a trip to Boston next week. They want me since I know about Killian's issues. And I think it would be a really great start. I may hate it, but at least I get a paycheck and know, right?"

"And you get to guard your boyfriend on a mini-vacation."

"That helps too," Emma answered with a bit of a laugh. "I wish this didn't happen, David, but it did. It probably was only a matter of time anyways. So, for once, I'm doing this on my own terms. _I'm_ deciding what happens with the police force. _Me."_

"I'm proud of you, Emma. For finally standing up to the abuse."

She grinned again before sobering quickly. "But before I quit, I need you to do something, okay?" David nodded, waiting for her to go on, sensing the abrupt change in her mood. "You gave up your dream job for me David. I've never forgiven myself for that." Emma held up a hand to stop David arguing. "I know you'd never leave with me in the force so I'm setting you free now. A job came up in Homicide a week ago. I know you got the email. I did. But I want you to answer it. It's a different precinct, but it's still Homicide. I want you to distance yourself from me, say what you need to in order to fix what they think of you, no matter how nasty, and apply for the job. You'll get it. Everyone loves you and you were on track to climb higher before. Go back to being a detective."

David watched her carefully for a moment before he gave her a small smile. "I'll never have a partner as good as you."

"Either will I."


	31. Boston

_A/N:_ I hope you guys like this chapter and aren't bothered by the end too much (or any mistakes- I don't have the energy to edit it closely tonight). Also, just so you know, the next chapter is already written and is 3000 words of pretty much just smut. I did it that way in recognition of the people who don't feel comfortable reading smut so they can just skip it without worry about missing too much stuff. That chapter will go up next Monday. Thanks to those who continue to read. There's been a big drop in reviews so thank you to those who still do- I really appreciate it- and please, if there's something I can do for the rest of you to improve your reading experience, let me know and I'll do my best to meet the needs so we can all enjoy this. Let me know what you think of this one! Enjoy!

Warning: This chapter contains mentions of alcohol abuse.

Disclaimer: All aspects of Once Upon A Time belong to ABC and the show's creators.

Killian had to press down on his leg to keep it from bouncing. Not that there was anyone around to see him but the Uber driver. But still, news traveled fast. Especially when a celebrity was involved.

And why would _Killian Jones_ have anything to be nervous about.

He was about to return to the world of music properly, that radio interview over a month prior had been a teaser and he was about to go on live tv. His paycheck would take a massive climb and countless numbers of fans would soon be screaming his lyrics along with him in the biggest stadiums in America.

Everything was great.

Except for the fact that Killian Jones wasn't anything like the persona now. And yet he had to be exactly what everyone expected. The radio wasn't bad because people didn't need to see him. He could do as he pleased so long as he sounded like sex, drugs and rock and roll. But on live tv? With a record deal and executives that expected very specific things?

Yeah, that was a different kettle of fish all together.

Because people would _see._ All those fans who knew every swaggering step, every smirk, even his preferred brand of black eyeliner- they would be watching. And noting if something was off.

So _Killian Jones_ wasn't nervous, but the person who wore his suit, Killian Jones, was.

Regina had already had his supplies, his chosen wardrobe, guitar, ear piece, everything, sent ahead to Boston with his gig man so that the guitar would be ready for the talk show he was performing on that afternoon. Which was probably a good thing because Killian was pretty sure he would have forgotten his guitar in his nervousness.

The Uber pulled up onto the tarmac of the private lot, slowing as they neared the private plane for Boston. Usually Killian would take a regular plane, not really fussed, but Regina had decided, and Killian had been not so secretly grateful, that Killian wasn't ready for that kind of public exposure. His manager, bless her icy exterior, was going to protect him as long as she could. Though it was probably nice for her to have the help of his assigned protector, Emma, for the more hands on stuff.

It was obvious that Emma was looking forward to getting into the security job. She'd gone ahead of Killian, not that she'd stayed at his place the night before, but he had been texting her, so she could scope out the area and debrief with Regina. Killian actually looked forward to seeing Emma in her element, far away from the treatment in the precinct. It would be a glorious sight and one that did much to calm his frayed nerves.

Killian sucked in a deep breath before nodding to the driver and slipping out of the car, to-go coffee cup in hand. The stairs for the plane were down and Emma stood beside them, watching the flight crew carefully. She wore her hair tied up in a tight pony tail and a black polo embroidered with the Poison Apple logo in green just below her left shoulder. A gun was holstered to her hip in as non-flashy a holster as one could really get while still making sure people knew it was there. A little smile flicked up her lips when she noticed Killian arrive.

Killian crossed the tarmac to her, finally smiling for the first time that morning.

"Hello, lass," he greeted, moving to kiss her.

Emma turned quickly, moving her arm as if she were ushering him inside the plane instead of returning the greeting. "Inside," she murmured, lips barely moving. "There are paparazzi outside the gate. Someone got hold of your flight schedule."

Killian gulped, trying to stop from turning immediately and running. Fuck. The protection he needed for Emma had nearly been blown, and would have been if it weren't for how careful and aware she was. Would the paps think anything of the weird _almost_ kiss?

Not when Killian Jones was a known flirt. With a deep breath Killian steeled his features and turned towards the metal fencing around the private airport. Sly grin in place, eyebrow climbing higher every second, Killian raised his coffee cup in a salute towards the place where cameras were not so subtly peaking from around bushes. At least this would give better pictures than whatever the awkward bob did and increase the likelihood of this planned picture being published in the magazines and gossip sites.

"Inside," Killian muttered, feeling an uncomfortable tug, as if his muscles didn't _want_ to play this game. Didn't want to smirk and wink and swagger. Oh, how he wished he'd taken up Victor's offer and gotten some more anti-anxiety meds, those ones that worked in a panic attack. But he was already taking his SSRIs and there was this fear that as someone so prone to vice, introducing more meds, especially strong ones like he'd originally been taking for the immediate anxiety, would cause more trouble than fix.

Emma returned with a sharp nod before going back to watching everyone move around the plane. Killian climbed the stairs and took his seat. Regina raised a brow from her own.

"And how are we today, Mr. Jones?"

"Peachy," he answered grimly, taking a sip of his now cold coffee.

"You forgot the eyeliner." Regina held up a black pencil, offering it to him.

Killian cursed softly before taking the pencil and slipping to the tiny onboard bathroom. Killian Jones was never without eyeliner. It was part of the appeal, the image expected of him. Without the eyeliner he looked more like himself, more vulnerable. Without the eyeliner people could get in. Without the eyeliner people were reminded of the band he was once part of, with a brother and friends. A few slicks of black khol and _Killian Jones_ had arrived. Almost as if a mask had slid into place.

Killian exited the bathroom just as Emma came on board, the staircase folding up into a door behind her.

"Morning, lass," Killian greeted, reaching out and catching her hand.

This time Emma smiled properly and squeezed his hand. "Morning, Killian."

"That's better," he grinned, kissing her cheek quickly before taking his seat. Emma slid down beside him, buckling up.

"You doing okay?" she asked, leaning down beside him to murmur in his ear while Regina started typing away on her laptop.

"Ask me later?"

She gave him a weak smile. "How little sleep did you get?"

"Three hours?" Killian put in with a self-depreciating shrug. "How can you tell?"

"I actually used to be a detective," Emma grinned back. A wave of gratitude shot through him that this guard position had been open and that Regina had agreed for her to take it. Emma was _joking_ about her time as a detective. And it wasn't self-depreciating or bitter.

"Really?" Killian returned, happy to go with her mood on the subject. "I didn't know that."

Emma rolled her eyes. "You haven't been having coffee at all anymore and here you are with a grande."

"A ginger shot just wasn't going to cut it."

"You should sleep now," Emma suggested, interlacing her fingers with his and moving her neck, as if to create a space for him. Killian watched for a moment before nodding, that weary anxiety weighing heavily on his bones. In private things were easier. Easier to just be. With a sigh Killian settled his head against her shoulder and allowed the whirr of the plane engine and the warmth of Emma's body to lull him to sleep.

The rest of the morning went by in a buzz. Killian managed to sleep the entire trip to Boston, as well as the car ride to the TV station through traffic. Sleep was an oblivion, enough to pull him out of the stress, especially when Emma sat next to him, unable to hold his hand in the public Uber but only a few inches away. Once they reached the television station, Emma shook his shoulder, rousing him.

"There's a crowd gathered." Emma's voice was tight.

"What?" Killian asked blearily, peering out the tinted window. Sure enough there were at least twenty teenage girls and a few harried adults standing outside of the back door to the station.

 _Fuck._

"It will be okay," Emma whispered. "I'm here. The door's unlocked and we'll get through it."

The Uber next to them holding Regina parked and his manager got out, sweeping inside without a problem, no doubt throwing one of her famous glares at the girls. Or they just didn't know who she was. But they knew who Killian was.

Emma spoke into the mic hanging from the earpiece she wore, listening to the response. Killian wanted to ask her who she was contacting but he was too busy watching the girls with their signs. They probably wanted him to sign those bristol board posters. Killian's hands shook at the thought, forcing him to grasp at the black denim jeans he wore. How much of an asshole was he for not wanting to sign autographs and take pictures? Oh how much easier this was when he was halfway to the bottom of a bottle already. At least then if he decided he couldn't pretend to be Killian Jones that day he was too far gone to care.

"I can't talk to them today," Killian whispered, catching Emma's attention quickly. "I can't pretend anymore than I already have to."

"It's okay," she replied. "I can be a bitch for you."

Killian had to snort out a laugh, but the sound was quickly stopped when Emma climbed out of the car. She quickly hurried around the front of the car to Killian's side, pulling the door open.

"Deep breath, and mask on. We'll be inside in thirty seconds."

Killian shut his eyes for a moment. It was way easier to pretend to be sex drugs and rock and roll when he was never sober. Killian pushed himself out of the car, nearly climbing back in when the crowd started to scream and push closer to him.

"Mr. Jones has no time to sign autographs today." Emma put herself between the mass and himself when they didn't stop, hands up. "Back off," she barked, hand dancing over the revolver at her hips. A few of the girls and all the parents stopped, eyeing her warily. But not all. Again, Killian had to stop himself from running. Or spilling the entire truth so they would just back off.

"Back off. I won't ask again." The vitriol in her voice made even Killian glance at her. It sounded how she'd talk to a criminal, maybe someone attempting to run her through with a knife to get away. "I will have you all arrested." That got all their attention and the remaining girls to stop.

"Thank you," Emma answered, softer now. She reached back to grasp Killian's elbow and guided him through the crowd with no issue. Oh, Emma was glorious. He wished he wasn't quite so anxious and could actually appreciate it but he was too busy trying to keep smirking and throwing the occasional wink at the fans.

A few moments later, Emma was pulling open the big steel station door and allowing him into the relative quiet of the station. The speaker in Emma's ear crackled and she stopped to listen before leading him further up the hallway.

"Your dressing room is up here. Regina's already in a meeting getting everything set up."

Killian just nodded, following Emma up the cement lined hallway, made to isolate sounds for the studio. Halfway up the hallway was a black door with his name taped to it. She opened the door and moved aside so Killian could enter. Killian slipped into the dressing room and sunk down onto the nearest chair, an old upholstered thing. Emma shut the door and grabbed a bottle of water on the counter with the rest of the rider requests Regina had sent in and handed it to him.

"I shouldn't be in here but I just wanted to ask- how are you doing?"

Killian glanced up at her and sighed. "Are you sure I can do this?"

"Are you sure you can't?" Emma returned, squatting down in front of him and placing her hands on his knees, warming and grounding.

"It's just exhausting," Killian answered truthfully.

Everything was exhausting. Out here, he felt like a lie. Killian only felt like himself when he was in his house or Emma's apartment, no illusions between them. He didn't want to put on those leather pants and the leering smile that he'd be furious if someone sent at Emma.

"You won't always have to lie."

"Everyone here wants something from me." It was hard not to sound whining and he felt a bit bad about that. Because Killian knew he was lucky but he was just so _tired_ of all this. Of the lies and the persona and not getting to figure out who he was. Because he wasn't who he was before the alcohol, too much had happened since, but he also wasn't the man Emma had pulled off that boat two months prior. Eight weeks wasn't a long time to be sober- well it felt like an eternity- but it also was so short a time to figure himself out after years of floating and fumbling.

Emma nodded, pulling him back to the present. "But think about this- tonight it will be just me and you in the hotel. No one else to need anything."

Killian raised a brow. "You and me in a suite?"

Emma grinned and Killian had to study her carefully because it actually seemed like she was implying something beyond _just_ sleeping. And damn, didn't that make his stomach flip with anticipation. And also a bit of hesitation and confusion. They'd slept together a few more times the past week and each night seemed to get more difficult. Each night they seemed to come together and spoon quicker. Each night he slept more soundly but dreamed more vividly. Each morning he woke harder. And not just because he was always a bit sleepy and spent too much time watching Emma sleep.

"Oh?" Killian asked, slightly breathless.

"Oh," Emma answered, standing. "Get ready. You're on in thirty." She pressed a kiss to his lips and left, Killian's groan following her out.

Damn temptress.

The two of them alone, in a fancy hotel room. A mini-vacation of sorts. With Emma clearly interested in trying. Trying being the operative word because Killian had no idea what he was capable of. Killian groaned again, this time for a different reason.

Emma had saved him only to be the death of him.

Killian guzzled the water bottle before standing to change into the leather pants and black t-shirt with the rips in it that Regina had set out already. The leather pants didn't go on quite as easily as they had before on tour, his legs having filled out a bit from all the running he'd done. At least this was one way to see the progress beyond a lack of a daily hangover. Killian would need to order new pants before tour because there was no way he was dancing around in these for three hours. Once he was dressed Killian mussed his hair so it flipped around like he'd just had _really_ good sex, pulled the v-neck of his shirt even lower and then slipped into his heavy black boots again, singing to himself.

The leather and black costume helped. It almost made him feel like the person he was supposed to be, as if it were easier to pretend when he looked the part. Killian never could have pretended to be the rockstar in that yellow t-shirt he'd loaned Emma the week before. Not that anyone would have taken him serious in that.

A few minutes later there was a knock on the door. "Mr. Jones? You're on in five."

Killian sucked in a breath that may have been a gasp before grabbing another bottle of water and opening the door. A PA stood beside Emma, checking her schedule. She nearly squeaked when Killian appeared, eyes widening. Despite the anxiety flooding him, Killian had to grin. Emma caught his eye and rolled her own.

"This way," the PA instructed after coughing into her hand, heat climbing her cheeks. Killian motioned for her to lead the way, Emma following into step beside him.

"Like what you see?" Killian whispered, raising a brow saucily.

"Enough that I'm glad Regina got us a big bed."

Killian couldn't respond because they'd entered the main station floor where he'd be performing. All he could do was sputter when Emma winked at him and moved to stand next to Regina off camera. Killian had to force himself to think about Regina riding a tricycle to stop himself from embarrassing himself. Because those leather pants were damn tight and didn't hide anything.

Killian hadn't had sex since the first time he met Emma, that time she threatened to shoot him, nearly three months prior. At first he hadn't known why but he'd since come to realize that Emma had caught him off guard so much that morning that he started to question all his decisions. Including finding all those bar flies each night. And then everything else got in the way. Was this Emma's way of saying she was ready? She wasn't going to run? Or was she just as horny as Killian was? Either way, Killian really wanted to leave and go to the hotel and find out _exactly_ what she was doing turning him on.

Killian grabbed his guitar, stood behind the mic, and looked towards where Emma stood, smiling a bit like the cat who got the cream. Oh, she was going to pay for the dangerous game she'd started.

The producer waved at him. "Twenty seconds Mr. Jones. Give us an intro then sing. We've an intro tape already playing."

Killian nodded, he'd seen that a few days prior, a mix of the hosts thoughts and old clips of Killian's tours and shows meant to tease the longer interview the next day on the morning show. It was standard but would please the fans and hopefully attract new with the clips of some of his best work- and gratuitous shirtless and tight pants images.

The producer pointed at him, before counting down from five on her fingers. When she pointed again, the light on the camera facing him came on and Killian stepped closer to the mic so that his lips nearly touched it.

"Good afternoon," he purred, lowering his voice to the one he had heard equated to sex, accent thick and husky. "This is a song from my new album, called Chipped Tea Cup. Enjoy." A quick wink at the camera before Killian started to strum. It wasn't meant to be a sexy song, meant more as a sweet love song that so often attracted the fans to the album as a whole- he really should write a few new ones of those- but he wouldn't be the man who created the Killian Jones persona if he couldn't turn anything into an innuendo.

Especially when the most beautiful and sexy woman he'd ever had the pleasure of knowing was watching.

And apparently it worked because Emma's face was red when he glanced at her halfway through the song. Killian didn't know if he should be proud or nervous of the can of worms he'd opened. Or maybe bed sheets he'd turned down.

Once the song ended, Killian very intentionally licked his lips and smirked. The producer waved off the camera and then he was free, the day's obligations over. When he glanced back at Emma she was shaking her head, biting her lip against the grin, hand flat against her chest.

"You're bad," Emma whispered when Killian had joined her again in the dressing room.

"You started it," he responded.

"Care to end it?"

"You're really serious about this?" Killian asked, the words coming out before he could stop himself.

Emma nodded. "I've been thinking a lot about it and we're here and together and I'm not saying we fuck." Killian snorted at her bluntness. "I'm just saying we explore. I mean, if you want to." Emma shrugged and looked away.

Explore?

Relief filled Killian. No sex but still fooling around. It was still too soon for Killian to trust his body and Emma still seemed conscious of her chance to run. Maybe fooling around would be the fun thing to kick start things. They may have only been together for nearly two months, but, Killian would have fallen into bed far sooner before. Not that they weren't in bed. But Killian would have been in bed in his birthday suit weeks ago. Hell, he and Milah had gotten it on a week after their first date. It was definitely time to see Emma shirtless.

Killian grasped her hand, pulling her closer. "Oh, I want to."

"Good." Emma kissed him hard and quick. "Now get ready. You have dinner and stuff to go to."

"Oh, stuff alright." Killian lunged to touch Emma's behind but she dodged the hand with a wink before jumping out of the way and letting herself out the door. Once again Killian found himself groaning at his girlfriend.

And wishing he wore sweatpants all through dinner as he watched Emma slip food into her mouth, lips wrapping slowly around the fork as she smirked saucily when Regina wasn't looking.

And cursing the Boston traffic.

And Regina for wanting to review the set list for the next day's show in his room.

It was after nine before Regina left, leaving Killian sitting on the edge of the bed and Emma perched on the windowsill. The minute the door shut behind Regina, Killian stood and threw the door lock.

"Finally," he sighed.

Emma laughed and stood, meeting him in the middle of the large suite, bare toes digging into the plush carpet. Killian stopped about a foot away, watching her.

"Do you still want to explore?" Killian asked, feeling like a virgin asking if he could cop a feel at the school dance. At least Emma seemed just as nervous, the two of them having sat on their arousal and thoughts for far too long.

Emma nodded, biting at her lip. "Yeah."

"What if I can't get hard? Or stay hard?" Killian asked, face heating up.

"What if I freak out? Or I missed a patch of hair shaving this morning?"

"I'm not trying to be funny," Killian replied, scowling a bit.

Emma quickly shook her head. "I didn't mean that, Killian" she answered, reaching to grab his hand. "I mean that, I'm scared too. I want this to be good. I'm at the point now where I want it to be so perfect I'm actually worried if I missed the hair on my ankle."

Of course Emma was worried about the little things. She wasn't used to this type of intimacy either. She was just as emotionally hurt as he was physically when it came to sex. But they'd never move on if they didn't try.

"I won't look at your foot," Killian replied.

Emma grinned. "Good, because I was thinking that we could explore your body."

"Mine?" Killian asked, nervous but also a bit excited.

Emma nodded. "I mean, you're really worried about everything when it comes to sex. Asking you to go straight into that isn't fair so I was thinking we could slowly start to build up your confidence in what you can do now that you're getting healthy. And I think that taking care of you like this might help me to." Emma muttered the last bit, still not totally comfortable in showing her emotions. It reminded Killian of the first day he was at her place, when she researched all the food he needed during recovery. Emma coughed. "Plus, I really want to give you a blow job."

Killian felt his knees start to buckle. Oh. That sounded brilliant. Even better because Emma had actually thought about all this, about what they needed to keep moving forward in a physical way. How was he supposed to say no to something he wanted so badly, that also had the potential to really help him understand his new body?

Nerves still filling him but not enough to shove down his determination to do this with Emma, he raised a brow. "Well what are we waiting for?"

Emma grinned and shoved him onto the bed.


	32. Stepwise

_A/N:_ Okay, so here's what you've all been waiting for. THE SMUT (oh, I hope it's okay, I have no idea). I'm not sure when my next chapter will go up, I have to figure out how to connect this with where I'm going without this story getting any more out of hand- like it needs to end before 200 000 words. Anyways, thank you so much for all the feedback on the last chapter, it's the most for one chapter of this whole story. I'm not sure if it's because I mentioned something or if you all just really like smut but I'm really appreciative of it. It made what was a shitty week (let's just say I'm completely swearing off dating for a while because I continue to completely get fucked over, even from the guy who was supposed to help me trust men again after the year and a half abuse I dealt with from my ex) so much better and each review was a little star of brightness in the stress and anxiety. So thank you! I hope you enjoy this! Let me know what you think!

Warning: This chapter contains mentions of alcohol abuse.

Disclaimer: All aspects of Once Upon A Time belong to ABC and the show's creators.

Killian half sat against the headboard staring at her, mouth nearly gaping like a fish. Emma ran her tongue across her lips, wetting them while she waited. It was all she could do not to climb up onto the mattress and lick a strip across his stomach. All she could do not to pull down her jeans and show him the underwear she'd bought a few days prior. _Just in case._

"Killian?" she asked softly, still waiting at the foot of the bed. The hesitation was clear in his eyes and Emma would not take advantage of him, no matter how much she wanted to run her hands all over him.

"Are you sure you're alright with doing this stepwise?" Killian asked in return, ears reddening with an implication not found in his words. Well, that explained the hesitation, that idea of good form Killian was always on about, telling him that Emma was the one who needed to be pleased, needed to be rendered boneless. But what if Emma was the one who wanted to take care of _him?_ She knew his fears, this idea he carried that he could only be a pleasure in bed if he was hard as a telephone pole and capable of transforming into some sort of sexual jackhammer. Both of which sounded rather unpleasant to Emma and discounted her desire to have some sexual activity _mean_ something for her. Even if that activity was getting Killian off to show him he was capable and that his body wasn't completely shot, maybe return some of that confidence he so lacked.

Plus, the idea of giving him a blow job was just really hot and had a fire burning low in Emma as she watched him, forcing her eyes to stay on his face and not trail down the rest of his body.

"Killian, I wouldn't offer if I didn't want to. But if you don't feel ready, I'm content to just climb up there beside you and watch a movie."

"But if I can't last long?"

Emma shrugged, going for an airy answer. "My jaw will thank you." That hesitation that he was a failure in bed was what was stopping him. The questions made that obvious. Especially since they'd just rehashed the conversation they'd had two minutes prior. Emma wasn't about to let his fears get in the way of what he wanted, not again.

It was a good thing then that she had a few tricks up her sleeve. She slid her two hands along her waistband, slipping her thumbs under her black polo and pulling upwards slowly. Once her shirt was off, breasts hidden only behind cups of black lace, she sent a sly smile at Killian as she tossed the shirt towards their suitcases piled in the corner. She'd seen Killian nearly naked but this was the first time he'd seen her without a shirt. And she was pretty sure he was going to like what he saw- if she did say so herself.

Killian groaned, laying his head back on the headboard and staring up at the ceiling. A hand flickered at his waist, almost as if he wanted to palm himself through the jeans. One moment of hesitation before he spoke again. "I'll repay the favour."

"You want this though, right?" Emma asked, stepping closer, feeling the hesitation herself now. Because this wasn't just a fuck. This was her reminding Killian that he had a body she wanted, that she wanted _him_ , no matter how his body responded.

"I do," Killian answered, strained.

That was all Emma needed. She climbed up onto the bed, moving on her knees over the where Killian had sunk down onto the mattress, head on the pillow with his eyes closed. Killian opened his eyes when she got closer, hand reaching towards her breasts. But not touching. Too close and too far.

"Can I?" he asked quietly, hand hovering in front of a breast. Emma nodded, unable to voice just how much she wanted his hand on her, tongue wetting her lips again as she watched the callused hand inch closer. Her back bowed as his warm touch circled one of her breasts, giving it a squeeze. It had been too long since she'd been touched. Killian groaned. Emma whimpered.

Fuck.

Another squeeze.

A warm hand wrapped around her other breast, and then Killian was kneading, hands moving and igniting a fire in her. A thumb slipped under the lace cup, brushing once, twice across her nipple.

Fuck, the friction was just enough to tease her for more. Enough for her eyes to shut. The next time a thumb brushed over her nipple it was damp. Emma's eyes opened in surprise, looking down at Killian who watched her with a kind of awe, a shiny patch of wet on his lip from where he'd sucked a thumb into his mouth before pressing it to her.

"Good?" he asked softly.

Emma nodded. "Yeah," she whispered back, almost scared to be loud. Killian twisted his hand so it gripped the strap of her bra and used it to pull her downwards, catching Emma off guard so she was forced to brace her hands on either side of Killian's head to stop from smashing down on top of him.

"You're beautiful, Swan," Killian whispered, voice rough already. Another tug and she was closer, her face only an inch or so from his. He still smelled of the sweat that had perspired when he was under the hot lights of the studio but it wasn't particularly cloying or at all unpleasant. It was a man's smell and Emma could feel herself start to crave it. Emma dipped the rest of the way to Killian herself, pressing a kiss to his lips.

Killian's tongue ran across her own, asking her to deepen it. Emma allowed him entry and Killian's tongue swept into her mouth, long and slow. Emma lowered herself down onto her elbows, body pressed against his. The ridge of his cock pressed hard against the fly of her jeans, making her wish she had other plans than she did that night. Something that involved a base past blow job.

"You're more beautiful than I deserve," Killian murmured when they broke the kiss for air.

 _I deserve._

Emma's heart clenched for the man who still thought himself so unworthy. She was the one who was unworthy- didn't he know that? Didn't he know that she was trying to show herself that they could be together, move forward, even if she was practically a peasant to his royalty? She pulled back, shifting up onto her knees. Killian's face twisted, obviously thinking he'd said the wrong thing.

"Shirt off," Emma demanded. When Killian looked confused, as if he didn't expect Emma to want to continue, Emma settled further down on her haunches so her crotch settled onto the ridge of Killian's cock and swivelled her hips. Heat shot through her. Emma had to clamp down on her lip to stop from making noise. This was about Killian.

Killian groaned out an oath, hands immediately going to his shirt. Emma twirled her hips again, causing Killian's movements to stutter and to shoot her a glare. The t-shirt he discarded nearly hit her in the face as he attempted to toss it from the bed. Emma gave one more dip of her hips before rising again so she could get at Killian's chest.

Fuck he was handsome.

The muscle tone was slowly returning, a slight bit of definition carving at his abs and hips, just enough so that he no longer looked wasted. That sickly pallor was gone and a thatch of curling black chest hair covered the top of his torso. Emma immediately dipped her fingers into it, combing them through the hair. Killian moaned in appreciation.

" _You're_ more dashing than I deserve," Emma returned, bending and placing a kiss to his breast bone. She didn't lift her head, instead running her lips across to a nipple before grating her teeth over it gently. Killian cursed.

" _Emma."_

She repeated the movement on the other side, trailing kisses before using her teeth, earning her another curse and moan.

"Good?"

Killian nodded, tongue playing over his lips. "Just like that, lass."

"We're just getting started." She moved off his nipple, kissing her way down to his belly button, shifting off an elbow so her hand could continue to brush over the hair and nipples. "Tell me if anything's not good, okay?"

"I don't know if that's possible," Killian answered, hand slipping into her hair and scratching lightly at her scalp. Emma grinned up at him, pleased he was starting to relax, before pinching a nipple. Killian's head shot forward, neck straining. "Fuck that's good." _Who would have thought._ Emma filed away Killian's love of nipples, both hers and his own, before pulling her hand away and sitting up.

"Ready?"

Killian sucked in a deep breath, eyes shutting momentarily, before nodding. With Killian's consent, Emma felt a flare of excitement and arousal shoot through her. She'd seen his chest before, but never his cock. Hands just slightly shaking, she undid his belt buckle. Killian's hands came down to help her with the button before Emma shifted, moving off Killian and further down the bed. While she did that, Killian kicked off his jeans, revealing a pair of maroon boxer briefs.

The thick ridge of his cock was visible, hard, a damp spot collecting at the head of his cock. Emma leaned forward and ran a hand across the ridge, warm under her palm. Killian jerked, legs curling up at the sensation. Emma soothed a hand down his leg, scratching her nails against him. Killian's dick twitched under the cotton fabric.

"Just relax," she murmured, slowly snaking her hand back up his leg.

"Bloody hard to do with you doing this, Swan," Killian returned, accent rough. Emma snorted a laugh. She'd definitely not done anything like this before. _This_ not being the sex thing. She hadn't been a virgin in years. But this with Killian. This kind of awkward, kind of hesitant and yet still hot kind of thing. Like she just _snorted_ and Killian was still hard and nearly panting, just from her moving around his cock. Maybe this was what sex was like with someone you cared about?

Novel concept.

Emma bent forward and huffed a warm, damp breath against the head of Killian's cock, lips brushing the maroon fabric as Killian thrust forward at the sensation.

 _"Fuck."_

Emma grinned against his cock before reaching up and pulling at the waistband of the briefs. Killian lifted his hips to allow her to pull them down, kicking his legs once the briefs were far enough down that he could get them off himself. When Emma looked back, Killian's cock jutted upwards, a drip of pre-cum sliding down the back in line with a bulging vein and Killian was looking down at her.

"I don't know how long I'll last," Killian warned, already panting just from having his cock bared to her. As if she turned him on that much. The thought that she could be that wanted had a surge of heat going through her and she knew her panties would be damp. Maybe this was the result of just how long it had been for both of them. Or maybe this was what having sex was like when you felt things Emma wasn't even close to being ready to name.

"Don't worry," she answered, tapping the inside of his knee. Killian spread them so she could gain access. "There will be plenty more times." She settled on her knees, sitting so her heel was positioned the way she needed to bring some relief. "And I may just cum doing this," she blurted, ducking her head in embarrassment a moment later when she realized how desperate she'd sounded. This was about _Killian._ Not her normal selfish desires.

"Hey," Killian admonished, sitting up a little so his hand could reach forward and cup her chin. "No embarrassment, yeah? Me and you. This is us."

"Us," Emma echoed with a little nod. This wasn't a one-night stand. This was her and Killian and they were learning how to be together, _together._ And together meant relearning bodies and pleasure away from the selfishness they'd used before with those found in bars or on dance floors.

And right then, was Killian's turn.

Emma reached forward and wrapped a hand around the velvety hardness of Killian's cock. Killian hissed, bowing off the bed at the sensation. Emma twisted her hand a moment, aided by the precum slipping down the cock, waiting for the moment Killian closed his eyes before dipping forward and slipping her tongue against the head. Killian cursed, legs twitching. She shifted so she could lean against one and reduce the chance of her being kicked because she had a feeling that Killian wasn't much in control of his body at the moment. That was an injury she would not have wanted to explain to Regina.

Once Killian had settled again Emma leaned forward and instead of licking, she wrapped her lips around the tip of his cock and sucked gently. Once, twice. Listening to Killian pant. Then she slipped her lips further down, around the ridge of the head, flicking out her tongue at the sensitive underside. Killian whimpered. A moment later she relaxed and slid as far as she could down, covering the rest of the space with a fisted hand. Killian cursed.

Emma set a rhythm then, up, down, twisting her hand as she followed her lips. Every few strokes she'd lick down the vein or suck on the space where the cock connected to the balls. Killian jerked and panted and cursed, calling out how beautiful she looked and other dirty platitudes when she hit the right spots. Emma might have been bad at meaningful sex but she was starting to learn that she was good at the actions for it.

Killian seemed to agree.

After a few more bobs and licks Killian's hand came to rest on her hair, gently but firmly driving her rhythm faster. Toes cracked as Killian curled them, pleasure bowing out his back.

"Not. Long. Now. Swan," Killian grit out between gasps for air, free hand balling in the sheets.

 _Finale time._ Emma sucked in a deep breath through her nose before swallowing around his cock, shifting her weight at the same time so one hand was free to go to his balls. She cupped them gently, running a thumb over the wrinkled skin, while the other hand snaked up and scratched across a nipple. One more breath in and she swallowed around his cock again.

Killian cursed out her name, jerking his hips upward as he came down her throat. Emma pulled back, catching most of the seed in her hand as she moved her fist slowly down his length to draw out his orgasm. She panted in a few deep breaths, watching Killian's eyes shut as he shook with an aftershock. Emma released him and stood so she could grab the Kleenex box from the bathroom and rinse and spit quickly into the sink.

Killian seemed completely oblivious to her actions, eyes shut, chest heaving, toes still curled. She had to grin down at him, the pleasure he was in undeniable. She pulled out a few tissues and cleaned him up before he could turn into a sticky mess while he may or may not have fallen asleep or blacked out. Emma really couldn't tell at this point. After disposing the garbage, she returned to the bed, laying down next to him and pressing a kiss to his sweaty cheek.

"Okay?" she asked, watching as he cracked an eye open and turned to face her.

"Better than okay," he answered on a sigh. Killian reached forward and pulled her close, still sleepy with that post-orgasm haze. Emma bent forward and pressed a kiss to his lips, opening when he became more insistent.

"You're turn?" he asked, cupping her breast again.

"You're sleepy," she answered with a shake of her head as much as she didn't want to. "You've got a big day ahead of yourself and you're going to have no energy."

Killian huffed in frustration. "But you've not been satisfied."

"Your body needs to recover." Emma knew going in that this was about Killian, not herself. If she rubbed one out in the shower later, so be it. Killian needed his confidence back. And needed to learn how to operate with his new body.

Killian was thoughtful for a moment. "What about this?" Killian snaked his hand past the waistband of her jeans, fingers moving just above where Emma was still dripping. She raised a brow at him. "I'm not moving. I'm resting."

Emma couldn't help herself, she laughed. And no small part of that was barely concealed relief because Killian was going to get her off. "I guess that could do," she answered, unbuckling her jeans and shoving them, with her underwear, down to her ankle as Killian looked on.

"So beautiful," he whispered against her lips, a moment later, before sliding his fingers down through her folds. Emma gasped as a callused digit brushed her clit. "So wet for me," Killian went on, almost shocked sounding, surprised that she would be turned on by him.

"So wet," Emma answered, rolling her hips into Killian's hand. That seemed to spur him into action, fingers moving so his thumb could brush over her clit while he slid a finger into her, thrusting. It took no time before she was panting, having already been turned on, but now teetering on the edge. Killian slid another finger in and twisted, pressing hard against her clit. Emma pressed her lips to his, a battle of teeth and tongues as pleasure started to make that final coil in her belly.

Emma came hard when Killian pressed against her clit.

"Shit," she panted, turning onto her back and running a finger through tangled hair.

"Good?"

"Oh yeah," she answered.

"Next time though, we reverse the roles."

"Sounds good to me," Emma mumbled back before letting her eyes slip closed and a pleasure filled sleep take her.


End file.
